The Power of Memory
by Laura M. Appelbaum
Summary: As the tenth anniversary of The Battle of the Line approaches, a woman from Sinclair's past arrives on the Station and Garibaldi must solve a baffling series of deaths among the Minbari population. Characters include Jeffrey Sinclair, Catherine Sakai, Michael Garibaldi, Delenn, Stephen Franklin, Susan Ivanova, G'Kar, Londo Mollari


The Power of Memory

By Laura M. Appelbaum

"So how long," asked Garibaldi between bites of his hamburger, "is she gone this time?" Sitting next to him on a stool at his kitchenette bar, Sinclair replied.

"A week." He wiped his mouth on a napkin. "She's checking something out in the Tigris Sector."

"Does it bother you that you don't know exactly where she is?"  
"No. Not really. As long as she comes back on schedule, I'm fine. Why? Would it bother you?"  
"Well yeah. With me, I'd be suspicious she was off sneaking around with another guy." Sinclair frowned and looked over at his friend.

"Why would you think that? That wouldn't even occur to me."  
"Maybe it wouldn't to you. But me? I don't trust anybody."

"Do you distrust me?" Sinclair asked, slightly insulted.

"No, but you're kind of the exception that makes the rule. Besides, every woman but Lise cheated on me sooner or later."  
"You made some bad choices then. That's never happened to me."  
"That you know of. See me, I investigate 'em, keep tabs on them. That's how I always found out. You don't check, you don't know."

"Catherine is not cheating on me," Sinclair insisted, irritated.

"I'm not saying she is, but how do you know? Are you getting it on a regular basis?"  
"Garibaldi! I'm not answering that!" Garibaldi shrugged and stuffed a couple of french fries into his mouth. "It's none of your business."

"That's the first sign, you know. When they start claiming they don't feel well, they're not in the mood. Next thing you know a month's gone by with no action and she's telling you she's moving in with someone else."

"No one is moving anywhere. And what is this, you're keeping score like in high school?" Sinclair said with annoyance.

"Why? What was your track record like back then?"  
"It was an all-boys Catholic boarding school. They kept tabs on us from five in the morning until midnight Mass. What do you think?"  
"That you still managed to see more action than I do now."

"So why don't you ever ask anyone out, Mike?" Sinclair asked seriously.

"I dunno. It always ends badly and I wind up back in the bottle. I just don't do relationships right."  
"Neither did we for a long time."

"So what's the difference this time?"  
"She's not on my case about my career, I'm not worrying about where she is ..."

"Ah ha! So you're no stranger to worrying."

"Not for the reasons you do. I used to worry she'd get into trouble, that she wasn't thinking her actions out clearly. But now I realize she's no different than me. She loves what she does. It's dangerous, but she can take care of herself. I didn't get that before. And we're not arguing about the little stuff anymore. Used to be we could break up over which way the toilet paper should hang."

"Over the front."

"No, against the back. It was always a power struggle with us. Now we're spending that energy on something else."

"I thought you weren't gonna tell me about that." Sinclair looked at the ceiling in embarrassment.

"I'm not," he claimed.

"You just did." Sinclair shook his head.

"Look, are we going to watch this vid you brought over or not?"  
"Yeah. I know you're interested in history so I think you'll like this one," Garibaldi assured him as they walked over to the couch. "It's called 'The Godfather.' It's about organized crime over three hundred years ago."  
"It's a documentary?"  
"No, it's a vid. An antique vid. Whatdya say, wanna check it out?"  
"Anything to keep you from asking any more inappropriate personal questions."  
"You mean like how this got here?" Garibaldi asked, fishing a pair of black panties out from between the sofa cushions. Sinclair heaved a big sigh.

"Yeah. Like that."

XXX

"So now that we've agreed on this swap of medical information between Earth and Minbar, I guess we're finished here," Sinclair concluded with glances at Dr. Franklin and Delenn.

"This is far overdue," said Franklin, offering his hand to Delenn.

"I agree. With increased traffic between our two worlds our physicians should be fully prepared for medical incidents involving either race." She passed on the handshake, not recognizing his gesture, and instead bowed her head to both the doctor and Sinclair. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

"That went well," Franklin observed.

"Most negotiations with Ambassador Delenn do. Now G'Kar on the other hand ..."

"You don't think he'll agree to a similar exchange?"  
"Not unless it includes genetic data on telepaths. He's fairly single-minded on that. Before you got here he even propositioned our first commercial telepath to mate with him until they produced a Narn teep."  
"But Humans and Narns, so far as we know, aren't genetically compatible. They're marsupials."  
"Then maybe he was just propositioning her," Sinclair laughed. "You know G'Kar ..." His link chirped. "You'll excuse me … Sinclair here."

"Hey, Commander, there's a woman down here in customs to see you," Garibaldi's voice said. Sinclair looked perplexed. Franklin raised a hand and left the room.

"Is Catherine back already?"  
"No, it's someone named Cheren? What's that? She says you'd know her as 'Cherry'?"  
"Cherry? Cherry Senai? Tell her I'll be right down."

"He's on his way," Garibaldi informed the tall, thin Ethiopian woman beside him, his imagination running wild. This could only be something good. He resisted asking her anything, wanting to hear Sinclair's explanation. It only took about five minutes before he got the chance.

"Jeff!" the stranger greeted him with open arms.

"Cherry!" Sinclair exclaimed in response, exchanging a warm embrace with her while Garibaldi stood by grinning. She kissed him on the cheek.

"You're looking good," she announced, stepping back and appraising him. "And in charge of this whole station? Bill would be proud." Sinclair's smile faltered slightly.

"So … gonna introduce us?" Garibaldi asked eagerly. Sinclair gave him the side eye but then complied.

"Cherry, this is my Chief of Security, Michael Garibaldi, Garibaldi, this is Cherry Senai from my days at the Academy."  
"The Academy, huh? You Earth Force too?" She chuckled a rich laugh.

"Oh no! I was bartender at the Officer's Club." Juicier and juicier, thought Garibaldi. He wondered if Catherine Sakai knew about her, then reflected on how lucky Sinclair was that she was off-station if she didn't.

"So what brings you here, old friend?"

"We can talk about that later; right now I'm just ready to get settled in."  
"Later, sure, we'd love to hear it," Garibaldi interrupted. "Jeff and I were going to meet at B5's Club later on, weren't we, Commander?" he invented, insinuating himself between the couple in such a way that Sinclair could hardly object without looking like he'd stand up a friend for a woman. Sinclair turned and glared at him for a moment, then looked back at his guest, all smiles.  
"Right. Come on, Cherry; I'll walk you to your berth and then show you around."

"That would be terrific," she said, picking up her bag in one hand and taking hold of Sinclair's arm with the other. "Nice to meet you; I guess we'll see you later," she said to Garibaldi as they left customs.

"This is gonna be good!" Garibaldi exclaimed to Lou Welch as the latter came over to relieve him from his post.

"What'd I miss?"  
"Looks like the Commander has an old girlfriend visiting, and she's gorgeous."  
"Doesn't he already have a girlfriend, or am I out of the loop?"  
"Yeah. That's why this is gonna be good."

XXX

" … and this is Command and Control, or as we call it, C and C," Sinclair said as the door opened and they stepped inside.

"Wow. This is something! And you command all of it? We always expected big things from you; looks like we were right." Ivanova turned around at the woman's voice and tried to hide her surprise. It wasn't that long ago that Sinclair was first showing Sakai around. As soon as they were gone, she tapped her link and whispered into it.

"Garibaldi, what the hell's going on?"  
"She's an old girlfriend and they still seem really close! I'm gonna find out more tonight. Meet me at Earhart's at nineteen hundred and we'll learn together." Ivanova looked around to make sure no one else was listening to her.

"Does Catherine know?"  
"No, she's off-station for a week." She raised her eyebrows and then frowned.

"That doesn't sound like the Commander."

"I know! Catch you later!" 

XXX

"Here they come," Garibaldi announced, nudging Ivanova as Sinclair walked in with his guest. She was wearing a simple white dress with blue stripes at the sleeves and hem that set off her dark complexion well.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Ivanova worried. "What if we find out something he doesn't want us to know?"

"Commander! Over here," he called, raising his hand. With obvious reluctance, Sinclair headed over to their table. He frowned at both of his officers as he pulled out a chair for Senai. "He give you the full tour?"  
"Yes, thank you … I'm sorry, I forget your name?"  
"Garibaldi. Michael Garibaldi. And this here is Lt. Commander Susan Ivanova."

"Nice to meet you," Ivanova said, shaking hands across the table but still feeling guilty about being there.

"I'm Cheren Senai. But everyone calls me Cherry."

"What brings you to Babylon 5?"

"Jeff. And work. But mostly Jeff. How long has it been?" she asked him.

"Must be since you visited on Mars. Eight years, maybe?" The waitress came by and took their drink orders.

"No, I remember now. It was the five year Memorial service on Earth." Something dark came into Sinclair's eyes and he closed them for a few seconds. When he opened them again, it was gone.

"Of course, that's right. Five years ago."

"So you know each other from the bar at the Academy, huh?" Garibaldi butted in. "There must be some story there."  
"I worked in the Officer's Club. I knew the minute the Death's Hand Squadron walked into the room there was gonna be some trouble," she laughed to Sinclair's sheepish expression. "They had quite a reputation."

"That was you, Commander?" Ivanova asked. He nodded.

"The 361st Tactical Squadron."

"The 361st, that was ..." Garibaldi began.

"Alpha Squadron, yeah," Sinclair finished, his expression unreadable.

"Once you sat down at the bar with Bill, my hands were full."  
"Oh yeah? Jeff's told us a little about his Academy days. He was never far from trouble, was he?" Senai and Sinclair exchanged glances and broke out in laughter.

"You could say that," she laughed. "But far be it for me to talk about it and undermine your authority here," she assured Sinclair.

"Thanks."

"Aw, come on, there's gotta be something you can tell us," Garibaldi incited.

"Well, on their fifth visit, when Jeff asked me out, I could hardly refuse, right? Those eyes, that voice ..." Garibaldi grinned. Ivanova looked down at her drink, a little embarrassed, though she wasn't sure if it was for Sinclair or herself. "Little did I expect on the night of the date that instead of Jeff, his friend Bill Mitchell would show up!" Garibaldi's grin faded. He might have been mistaken in his assumption and told Welsh and Ivanova something wrong. Very wrong. But Ivanova started to laugh.

"He had his eye on you from day one; by the time I got him drunk enough to build up his courage and ask you for a date, he passed out. What's a Squad Leader to do? I had to finish the job for him," Sinclair explained.

"It was pure love from that first date. Bill and me, I mean. But then to finish the joke, it was Hothead here who gave me the engagement ring."  
"Hothead?" Garibaldi and Ivanova reacted in unison.

"That's what Bill called him. They all did, the whole squad."

"Jeff? Hothead?" Garibaldi asked skeptically. Ivanova hid a laugh behind her glass.

"What a pair they were, Bill and Jeff, Blue-Eyes and Hothead. Inseparable, like brothers." She turned to Sinclair, her voice suddenly quieter and more serious. "I still wear his ring," she said, holding her hand out for Sinclair to see.

"How'd you explain that to your current beau?" he asked lightly.

"Oh, I don't date, Hothead. Bill was the man for me. There'll never be another." The table was enveloped in an awkward silence. "But how about you? I can't imagine you stayed single," Senai asked brightly as she turned to Garibaldi and Ivanova. "All the women were always after him; the uniform, those looks. Whatever happened with Catherine?"  
"We're back together again," said Sinclair, recovering with a small smile. "It's been on again, off again with us all these years, but I think it's working out for us this time."

"How great for you! The four of us really had some good times together. Remember that one January when we took out a boat with some stray dog and ..."

"Oh yeah, we heard about that one," Garibaldi grinned. "Only in his version you were all cadets."

"Oh no, only Catherine was. Bill was a Flying Officer, Jeff was Squad Leader, and me, I was a civilian. They would all have been in some trouble if we'd been caught." Her tone changed. "But if we'd hit that block of ice, we would have all gone down together." She searched Sinclair's face. "Right, Hothead?" His smile faded.

"Right. Together," he murmured softly, a thousand-yard stare coming into his eyes. "We thought we'd all go down together," he said, but it was no longer clear when he was talking about. He held onto his drink with a death-grip. The other three all noticed and scrambled to bring him back.

"There must have been plenty of other capers," Garibaldi prompted.

"Tell us more," Ivanova insisted as she eyed Sinclair with concern.

"I heard they came up with some crazy maneuvers in space, but of course I never saw them. Catherine told me about them. She came into the bar all steamed up about the stunt her instructor pulled on her during her first spaceflight. Once she described him and what happened, I knew it was Hothead."  
"How'd she describe him?"  
"I don't know if I should say." She looked to Sinclair. "Can I tell them?"  
"Hmm? What?" he said, dragging himself back into the room.

"How Catherine described you after that first lesson."

"Oh, yeah, sure," he replied, still only half there. Garibaldi leaned forward in anticipation.

"An asshole with a voice like butter." Ivanova snorted and Garibaldi laughed so hard he started to cry. Back at last, Sinclair chuckled.

"That's what she said? I didn't know that."

"That was the polite part," Senai advised him.

"What did you do to her, Jeff?" Ivanova asked as she finished her drink.

"I tried to make her black out. Came really close, too, but she hung in there. I wasn't just picking on her though; I did it to all the cadets."

"You were an evil, evil man," concluded Garibaldi.

"You better watch your back," warned Senai, "he might still have it in him. Although I guess you look out for everyone now," she said to Sinclair. "How's it feel to have all that responsibility?"  
"Pretty good. Most of the time. So where are you working now, Cherry?"  
"Don't know yet. I was hoping you could help me out on that. I've decided it's time to see more of the universe, so I came here, looking for work. I've branched out from bar tending into cooking. Think you could help me find a job on Babylon 5?"  
"Those kinds of staffing decisions aren't in my purview," Sinclair apologized, "but I could make some introductions."

"That's all I ask. I'd love to work in a bar or restaurant that caters to aliens. I really want to get a look at who's out here besides us. Not that many aliens really came to Earth." Ivanova poked Garibaldi with her elbow.

"We should probably leave these two alone to catch up together. It was great meeting you."

"You too. And you," she said to Garibaldi. "Hopefully I'll be here for a while and we can get together again."

Out in the hallway Ivanova confronted Garibaldi. "She was never his girlfriend! Who else did you tell that to?"  
"Lou. Maybe to Jack."

"Well you better clear that up with them before rumors start flying and get back to the Commander. You don't want to screw things up for him with Catherine."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. Hey, did you catch that look on his face when she talked about them dying together?"  
"I did. Was that friend Bill with him on The Line?"

"Sounds like it; the 361st led the entire fleet out when the Minbari entered the solar system. Jeff's was literally the lead ship. He rarely talks about it, but I remember the news stories after they surrendered. "

"You might want to check with him later. But first stop the gossip. That's an order."

XXX

"I can take him, I can take him!"

"Mitchell, break off! It might be a … it's a trap, Mitchell!"

"I'm hit! Ejecting!" Bill Mitchell's scream echoed inside Sinclair's cockpit only seconds before his empty helmet floated by. Sinclair bolted awake from the dream.

Every time he dreamt it, which was at least once a week, he was right back to that moment ten years before, at the Battle of The Line. He glanced at the clock. He'd been asleep for all of three hours. Sinclair performed the same ritual he went through every time; getting out of bed and heading to the kitchenette for the glass of water he left for himself before turning in. Normally, when Sakai was there, he never wanted to talk. Tonight, on spite, he did.

He hadn't anticipated seeing Cherry again and doing so opened back up the few stitches he'd managed to sew across the still open wound of The Line. Just hearing her voice, let alone recollecting specific memories with her, broke his heart anew. He'd never had a friend like Bill Mitchell before or since, one who was, as Cherry said, like a brother. His friendship with Garibaldi came close, but there was still some distance there, the distance he now kept from everyone. Bill knew him before the War, as the carefree prankster freshly released from the Jesuits' grip, the A student who never needed to study, the cadet who flew like he was born in a cockpit. Sinclair talked a lot back then, the unconstrained chatter of a young man who was quickly promoted to a position of some small authority. And Bill? Bill was the one who pulled all nighters and panicked about passing, who captivated everyone with his easy-going charm, who was loyal to the core. He and Bill had been roommates since their first days as fresh cadets and got to know each other's stories and habits like they were their own. Bill was who he went to when he was angry over another round of hazing by senior classmate John Sheridan. It was Bill who accompanied him on his prowls for available women, and Bill who discretely vacated the room when his outings were successful. It was Bill whom he first told about the feisty Japanese cadet who dared to give him a talking to after he pulled the backwards barrel roll with a diagonal twist on her. Ill-advised adventures, there was Bill. Debating the imponderable, Bill. And just as Bill was there to listen to his stories about his developing relationship with Catherine, he was there in turn to hear Bill's tales of his romance with Cherry. Even then, Sinclair got tongue-tied talking about his own emotions to women, but it was an easy thing to get down on one knee, recite some poetry and ask Cherry to marry Bill.

They'd fought alongside each other in the early days of the War; when it was still possible to imagine beating the Minbari, and they were there side by side when the President gave the speech appealing for the final defense of Earth that they all knew was guaranteed suicide. Bill stood with him while he insisted to their Commanding Officer that theirs should be the lead squadron, and they'd made a pact right there in the ready room; himself, Bill and the rest of the 361st that they'd all go down together; that if the Minbari were going to get to Earth, it would have to be through the twelve of them first. They were there, holding The Line against the darkness when the shooting started. The other eleven of them died together as promised, but inexplicably he was left, the only survivor of Death's Hand Squadron, one of barely a hundredth of the entire fleet to return to Earth alive. He literally couldn't kill himself for trying after watching the rest of his friends go down. The guilt haunted him still. And to learn that Cherry was equally wounded, staying faithful to a man dead for a decade only compounded the pain. It should have been me, he thought, I was their leader; it should have been me.

He rubbed his eyes. With his mind racing he'd never fall back to sleep. He pulled up some poetry on his reader and poured himself a generous glass of liquor, hoping the combination might still his thoughts and give him half a chance at getting some rest.

XXX

"You look like you haven't slept, " Garibaldi advised Sinclair as he sat down across from him at breakfast. "You stay up all night talking to Cherry?"  
"No. And I should tear you a new one for that stunt you pulled yesterday, but I'm too tired." He took a long draw of his coffee.

"Well, in my defense, I thought she was your girlfriend." Sinclair glared at him.

"Catherine's my girlfriend; you know that!"

"I thought you had another one." Sinclair shook his head in disbelief.

"How'd you rope Ivanova into your little scheme?"  
"I might have implied something scandalous was going on."

"Do you honestly think I'm that kind of a man?"  
"No. But what can I say? You seemed so intimately familiar with each other."  
"She was my best friend's fiancee. She's like a sister to me."

"A really hot-looking sister," Garibaldi observed.

"Watch what you say," Sinclair warned.

"She really hasn't dated anyone in the last ten years?"  
"That's what she says."

"He must have been some hell of a guy." Sinclair closed his eyes and nodded.

"The best."  
"It's hard to talk about him, huh?" Garibaldi asked gently. Sinclair flicked his eyes up at Garibaldi's face.

"Yeah."

"It's rough, losing a friend that way. Especially one that close. Since Frank Kemmer's death, I haven't had a friend like that … until now." Sinclair smiled faintly.

"Thanks."  
"How come when we walked those fifty miles together on Mars you didn't mention either of them?"  
"It was too fresh. In some ways, it's still too fresh. In some ways, it's great seeing Cherry again, but in others, it's painful, you know?"  
"Sure, I can understand that." They ate quietly for a few minutes. "So they called you 'Hothead', huh? That one of those name-the-tall-guy-shorty things?" Sinclair smiled.

"Yeah. I was pretty mellow back then."

"You still are."

"Maybe. Sometimes. They give you a nickname?"  
"Sure, 'Baldy'. 'Cause of the name. I mean, I have hair. I _had_ hair." They both laughed and Garibaldi reached over and punched Sinclair on the shoulder. "It'll be okay."

"Yeah. Someday." He stood up and grabbed his tray. "I'll see you later." Garibaldi gave him a wave and then turned his attention to the food on his plate.

XXX

"She's been a friend of mine for close to fifteen years. I'd be happy to vouch for her honesty and professionalism," Sinclair said to the Minbari restaurant owner who stood in his office.

"Thank you, Commander. Not being familiar with any of her former employers on your homeworld I was reluctant to hire her, but with your recommendation I feel comfortable doing so. Thank you for your time." He bowed to Sinclair and left just as Garibaldi and Ivanova entered for their afternoon meeting.

"Who was that?" Garibaldi asked, jerking a thumb at the doorway.

"The owner of Sector 47, the Minbari place in the Zocalo? Cherry interviewed with him this morning and he was checking with me for a reference."  
"Wow. She's only been on the Station for twenty-four hours and she's already landed herself a job? I wish I had someone like her in security."  
"Me too," Sinclair joked with a sharp look at Garibaldi. "So what have you got to report to me today?"  
"We caught a Drazi transport trying to smuggle ritual knives in with a shipment of religious icons. A really poor attempt too; all they did was seal 'em inside the statues. I mean, come on, show a little originality will you? Make me work a little at catching you. It's like an insult. I think there's a connection to N'Grath that I'm trying to pin down. A Dark Star dancer reported a sexual assault we're investigating, there were a few robberies in the residential neighborhood; nothing really big or interesting to report on the crime front. It makes me nervous." Sinclair frowned at him.

"Peace and quiet make you nervous?"

"Sure. People are always up to no good. If I don't catch them breaking the law, it means someone is getting away with something."

"It could also mean no one is committing any crimes," Ivanova suggested.

"Aw, come on, you don't believe that, do you?"  
"I'd like to," Sinclair answered.

"Yeah, and I'd like God to come down and shake my hand for a job well done, but that ain't happening either." Sinclair rolled his eyes. "There is one more thing, but I hate to bring it up." Sinclair raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "Some right-wing Pro-Earth types want to hold a rally in three weeks to commemorate ten years since the end of the War. Just give me the word and I'll deny them the permit, but I'll need an excuse that'll hold up with the ombudsman when they protest it, as we know they will." Sinclair's face darkened.

"That kind of thing will only inflame hatred of the Minbari; I can't have that happen on my Station."

"Maybe so, Commander," interjected Ivanova, "but they have the right to free speech."

"Not if it causes a riot," Garibaldi argued.

"Ivanova's right. They do have the right to organize and voice their opinions whether we like it or not. But the minute anyone starts advocating violence you have my permission to round them up and arrest them."  
"I would think you would want some kind of memorialization of the day," Ivanova ventured quietly to Sinclair.

"I'll mark it the way I always do; go to Mass and say eleven Novenas. The War ended, but no one won. To my mind, there's little to commemorate other than the lives lost. And now that our governments have reconciled even a public memorialization could be seen as unnecessarily provocative."

"With all due respect, Commander, not everyone shares that sentiment."

"I know. That's why I'm allowing Garibaldi to issue the permit, but I want a tight watch on that rally. The last thing we need is to start up the War all over again."

XXX

It was five days later when the murder victim was found. Sinclair stood with Garibaldi in a far-flung corridor in Down Below, staring at a slowly reddening sheet as a team from Med lab arrived on the scene.

"How was he killed?" Sinclair asked.

"As best I can tell, he was stabbed to death. Dr. Franklin will know for sure. But that's not the most disturbing thing."

"A Minbari stabbed to death isn't bad enough?"  
"He was gutted, Commander. Half his intestines are lying there on the floor. Now I don't know if that happened before or after he died, but someone made sure the poor bastard was dead twice over." Sinclair lifted the sheet for a moment and then met Garibaldi's gaze.

"I want whoever did this," he said in the low, level tone he only used when he was extremely angry. Then he gestured to the medics to remove the body. "Any evidence left behind?"  
"You know how it is here in Down Below; the murder weapon could have been left sticking right out of the body and someone passing by would snatch it up for their own personal protection. I mean, we're looking, but I'm not optimistic. What's especially unusual is that he's Minbari. They rarely come down here. They don't drink, they don't gamble, they don't go to strip joints; why risk it? The body was reported anonymously."  
"Witnesses?"  
"Again, it's Down Below. No one wants to get involved and life is cheap."  
"Life is never cheap, Michael," Sinclair growled. Garibaldi nodded his head once.

"Not to you or I, but to these people ..." he gestured around them. Sinclair closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them again, all business.

"I want a full investigation. There's this and that damn rally coming up; do you think there's a connection?"  
"I dunno, but the first thing I'm looking into is where the guys who applied for that permit have been in the last few hours."

"Alright, Chief. I'll let you go do your job," Sinclair concluded before he walked away.

XXX

Two hours later the two again stood side by side as Dr. Franklin stepped out of Isolab, pulling off his gloves and lowering his face mask.

"Our victim was stabbed repeatedly in the back. One blow severed his spinal cord. But all indications are he was still alive when the killer cut open his belly. He died of severe blood loss, and in terrible pain. Whoever did this wanted him to suffer."  
"Any clues as to the weapon?" Garibaldi asked.

"Something extremely sharp; a surgical steel type of blade, not something anyone banged out of a piece of sheet metal themselves."

"Have you been able to identify him?" Sinclair asked.

"His name is Dreval. He's Religious Caste and was serving as one of the Station's Minbari priests. No family here; I suppose I'll contact Ambassador Delenn for instructions about what to do with the body."  
"I'll do it," said Sinclair. He turned to Garibaldi. "Anything yet?"  
"We couldn't find the weapon, no bloody footprints around, though we did find this ..." he held out a torn and dirty rag soaked in blood. "It was tossed nearby. As best I can tell the murderer used it to wipe his hands of the victim's blood." Franklin took the cloth from him.

"I'll run a full genetic scan on it, see if there's anyway to match it to anyone in our database."

"Good," Sinclair said. "Keep looking, Michael. I want to wrap up this investigation quickly, before word spreads through the whole Station,"

"Good luck with that, but I'll see what I can do."

XXX

"Come," said Delenn, moving toward her door and unsurprised to find Sinclair standing there. She smiled. "Hello, Commander. Would you like some tea?"  
"I'm here on business. Some rather unpleasant business I regret to say," but he sat down on the edge of one of her tall kitchen stools nonetheless.

"Then perhaps we will be in even more need of tea," she said lightly, moving to fix some at the counter. Sinclair sat in silence as she worked and finally handed him a delicate cup. "Now," Delenn said, sitting down beside him, "what unpleasant business do we need to discuss?" Sinclair took a sip of tea and then fixed his amber eyes on her face.

"I'm afraid there's been a murder. Of a Minbari priest. Dreval?" Delenn's calm expression faltered and she set down her own cup.

"No, this must be some kind of mistake! Dreval ..."  
"I'm sorry, yes. He was stabbed and, well, there's no good way to put this, mutilated. Disemboweled." Delenn's back straightened and a familiar imperious expression fell across her face.

"Dreval was a High Priest with the greatest reputation. Who would dare to assault him?"  
"Perhaps ..." Sinclair sighed and leaned forward toward her. "But we both know, old friend, there is an anniversary of sorts coming up," he said in a honeyed voice. "You have spoken to me of a rift between the Religious and Warrior Castes over the end of the War ..." Rather than being appeased by his tone, Delenn only grew stiffer.

"I must have misheard you, Commander. I imagined I heard you imply something most impossible. Dreval was loved and respected by all Minbari. And even if he were not, Minbari do not kill Minbari. There is no possibility that one of my people would ..."

"Alright," Sinclair said with an empathetic expression. "I accept your conclusion. But I had to ask … we're in the dark as far as suspects right now."  
"Then I suggest," she said coldly, "you look to your own people. As you say, there is an anniversary approaching."

"We're already investigating on that front. We'll get to the bottom of this, Delenn, you have my word." She sighed and slightly relaxed her posture.

"Commander," she began, her voice softer, more intimate, "where does the nearness of that day find you?" She searched his face and Sinclair glanced away quickly.

"The War is behind us," he finally said, warily, "and I look forward to better days." Delenn nodded and briefly touched his hand, prompting Sinclair to meet her eyes with his own.

"As do I, " she said as they stared at each other intensely for a moment. "Thank you, Commander, for bringing this terrible news to me yourself. I look forward to hearing that you have apprehended the perpetrator of this crime."

"I hate to have to ask you this, but what would you like us to do with the body?"

"Have it cremated and I will deliver his ashes to his closest relative on Minbar to dispose of after the proper rituals are performed."

Sinclair bowed his head to her and then left the room. In the lift he leaned back against the wall and let the back of his head thump against it wearily. Where did he find himself indeed? Sorrowful? Angry? Lost? Or just numb? He spent so much of his energy on repressing his feelings on the subject that he hardly knew what they were anymore. Except for the guilt, the crippling guilt. He was well aware of that.

XXX

"Mr. Aziz, thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Sinclair said to the business man who sat warily across the table from him at the 'Hot and Fresh' donut and coffee shop.

"Look, I already answered all your Security Chief's questions. We've got a right to assemble and speak our minds, and we're exercising it."

"No one is questioning your rights." He picked up his coffee cup, swirled the contents around for a moment and set it back down. "I just wanted to talk to you about your intentions for this rally and the timing of it."  
"Like I said, we've got a right..." Sinclair nodded, a tight smile on his face.

"Absolutely. But what is it you are trying to say with this rally? As Station Commander, I want to know what concerns the citizens of Babylon 5."

"Look around you," said Aziz, gesturing with a glazed cruller. "Look at 'em all. What they couldn't take from us in War they're taking from us in business, commerce, influencing the government. You can't turn around without smacking into some bonehead. If they'd really meant to surrender they'd have left us the hell alone! The Minbari are taking jobs from Humans, 'investing' in our businesses; like we both don't know what that means; they're spitting in the faces of our veterans; I say it's time we put our feet down and tell 'em where they can go!"

"I see," Sinclair said levelly. "You don't like their presence here?"  
"Or worse, on Earth! They got no right murdering us and then making like nothing happened. Well I'll be damned if I'm gonna let them whitewash history! Ten years ago they destroyed the base on Proxima, nearly razed the Transfer Point on Io, and then they came gunning for Earth. Now they're making like they're our allies … two hundred thousand Humans died holding them off that day, holding The Line and I say we make sure everyone remembers!" Through his tirade Sinclair sipped his coffee, trying to keep his cool and fighting the visions that threatened to sneak up on him from behind. "I was a groundpounder on Io. 47th Battalion; I did my part and now they're trampling on it." He took an angry bite from his cruller. "How about you?"  
"I was there," Sinclair said cagily.

"What'd you do?"

"I led the 361st Squadron," he answered reluctantly.

"The 361st ; that was Alpha Squadron, wasn't it? I thought you guys were all dead."  
"Not all."

"Well I'll be damned. That's a hell of a thing. So you know exactly what I'm talking about. We gotta mark this anniversary loud and proud! It's time we sent a message to the boneheads, the tentacle dicks, the snakeheads and all the rest, that Earth's ours, not theirs, and we're gonna keep it that way."  
"Wouldn't it be more fitting to mark the anniversary as a solemn day of reflection rather than focusing outward on the Minbari?" Sinclair's question set Aziz back for a moment, but not for long.

"We gotta honor the dead by reiterating the message they sent; Earth will survive and it's for Humans only."

"Again, Mr. Aziz, I ask, why place the attention on the Minbari instead of recollecting our own?"

"I'm guessing you gotta say that kind of shit as Commander of this Station, but really, what do you think? As a fellow veteran and all?"

"I just told you." Aziz looked Sinclair up and down.

"So they got to you too?" Aziz muttered in disappointment. "Don't you realize if we give 'em a meter we give 'em a klick? I can't believe they could brainwash the guy who led us out at The Line."  
"No one has brainwashed me," Sinclair growled a little too hotly. "I was only hoping to appeal to you not to mar the day with violent rhetoric ..."

"Oh, if they want violence, they're gonna get it – again. It may take another ten years, but we Humans are gonna clean up the solar system one way or another!" Aziz stood up abruptly. "Thanks for your service," he spat and then walked away before Sinclair could return the sentiment, but with sincerity. With frustration, Sinclair sat there watching the man storm off. He supposed it had been naive to think he could find common ground with the rally organizers and convince them to see things more reasonably. But why had hatred of the Minbari spread to encompass all races? He remembered as a boy how exciting it was to read about first contact with a new race; or even better, to have his father tell him about it first hand. It didn't seem to him that back then, aliens had been resented. But then again, they were fresh out of the Dilgar War and it was universally felt that was a justified war, a good war. He sighed to himself. Times had changed and there was no going back.

XXX

"I've got something to report on that murder, Commander," Garibaldi told him the next afternoon as they walked through the central corridor. Sinclair looked at him expectantly. "We've been able to track the victim's last hours. In the morning he went to the Minbari chapel to do whatever it is Minbari priests do, then he ate at his usual haunt, Sector 47 and finally he went to Down Below. We found out from one of his assistants that he went there fairly frequently to meet up with a group of Human monks who live there, collecting alms, singing ..."

"I know them," Sinclair interjected, "interesting men. Very devout. I visit there sometimes on Sundays."

"I didn't know that."  
"There are plenty of things I do you don't know about," Sinclair teased.

"You really shouldn't go Down Below alone, Jeff. It's much too dangerous."

"I knew you'd say that. That's why I haven't told you I go there," Sinclair laughed.

"Anyway, I guess they have some kind of religious exchange going on. Had, I mean. I tried to interview them but apparently they have a vow of silence going on when they're not singing hymns."

"Chants. Gregorian chants. If you want I can try to see if they'll talk to me."

"Sure; I got nowhere. I figure it was sometime after that that Dreval was waylaid and killed."

"You mentioned Sector 47; that's where Cherry is working. I've been meaning to pay her a visit; I'll go by and ask if she saw anyone with him, anything suspicious. Any forensic results from Dr. Franklin?"  
"Nada. It was an old rag, probably once a blanket. It had so many people's DNA on it it's useless. The blood was all the victim's."

"Alright. Keep me posted. I'll tell you if I learn anything from Cherry or the monks."

XXX

Sinclair pushed his way though the departing lunchtime crowd at Sector 47. There was a good mix of alien races along with quite a few Humans, as the restaurant was one of the Station's few all-vegetarian establishments, which meant they served food inoffensive to all but the Pak'ma'ra. His eyes went immediately to where he saw his friend's distinctive figure at the back counter that led to the open kitchen.

"Have I come at a bad time?" he asked. She smiled broadly.

"You? A bad time? Never."  
"How do you like it here?"

"Oh, I can't thank you enough for helping me get this job! It's the most fascinating place I've worked in a long time! So many different aliens come here, my boss is friendly and I'm learning how to cook so many new dishes. This morning I saw my first Llort! Didn't even know they existed before. I'm so glad I've moved here." Sinclair smiled openly at her enthusiasm.

"Do you have a minute? There's something I have to ask you about."

"Sure, what is it, Hothead? Oh, I mean, Commander?" Sinclair presented her with a small computer notepad.

"Ever see this man before?"  
"Oh yeah, the priest. He comes for breakfast. Not today though. Why?"  
"He's been murdered." Senai's dark eyes widened and she put a hand to her lips.

"Who would kill a priest?"

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Yesterday. He came in alone and sat at the counter. My first few days here he had a Minbari monk or whatever you call them, with him, but not yesterday."

"Did he leave with anyone? Did anyone follow him out?"  
"Not that I know of – I was cooking. Did you know there are over thirty types of flarn?"

"Oh well, it was a long shot. Thanks anyway. We'll have to get together once Catherine's back," he said as he stood up.

"When are you expecting her?"

"Later tonight. Shall I tell her you're here or do you want to surprise her?"  
"Oh, you can tell her, that's fine. Well, I'd better get back to work," she said, cocking her head at a group of new arrivals.  
"Don't let me keep you, old friend." He was halfway out the door when it happened to him. Suddenly, in front of his eyes, like he was actually seeing it, actually experiencing it; he saw the sky open up with countless spirals of light; opening jump points delivering more and more Minbari Cruisers to the front. "It's a trap, Mitchell!" he heard himself say, and then someone bumped into him hard and he was back, disoriented, on Babylon 5 again. A flashback. Unlike the dreams, it had been years and years since he'd been lost in a flashback. Coming to, he found himself in a cold sweat and stumbled awkwardly into the hall. It took him a while to compose himself. He glanced back into the restaurant and saw Cherry Senai laughing with her customers. He wondered, with that ring on her finger, did it happen to her too? Was she ever lost in time, forced into recollecting the moment when she learned Bill Mitchell was dead? No, he decided, she had nothing to feel guilty about. She was a victim, an innocent victim; something he was not. His link beeped at him.

"Sinclair."

"Commander, Environmental Control needs your authorization to flush the main pipes in Red Sector."

"Permission granted," he ordered, relieved by the distraction. Back to normal, he headed for the Council Chambers and a monthly meeting of the Assembly.

XXX

Sinclair lifted aside the rough cloth that served as a door, then ducked his head, fell to his knees and crawled his way into the low-roofed metal chamber. He dropped some coins into the brass begging bowl in the center of the room and waited for the monks to reveal themselves. Palming his offering, they sung the Benedictus and Sinclair silently mouthed the words along with them. When they were through, he addressed them in Latin.

"I'm looking for some help," he said. "A Minbari priest who came here often has been murdered." One of the monks lifted his hood and stared at Sinclair. He switched to English. "I have some questions about his last visit. Did he come here alone?"

The man nodded yes.

"Was anyone here at the same time he was?"

The monk nodded no.

"Did you see anyone outside this room as he left?"

He nodded yes.

"Were they familiar to you?"

A nod. Yes.

"Someone who lives down here? A Lurker?"

Yes.

"Male?"

Yes.

Sinclair ran through some of the names he knew one at a time and got an affirmative response to the name Jinxo.

"Thank you," he said. He reached into his pockets for more coins and dropped them too into the bowl. "The murdered man's name was Dreval. Please recite a De profundis for him at Mass." His business done, he crept back out of the room and hastily left Down Below.

XXX

"No way. They must be mistaken. Jinxo is utterly harmless. He'd never murder anyone. First off, he doesn't have it in him, second off he's incompetent. He'd never be able to pull it off." Sinclair shook his head.

"I know. But that's who they saw when Dreval left. Maybe he's a witness."

"I'll check it out first thing in the morning. Hey, how did you get them to talk to you?"  
"I didn't exactly," Sinclair laughed. "Ever play 'Twenty Questions'? It helps if they know and trust you." He stifled a yawn.

"You should get out of here," Garibaldi suggested. "Besides, you've really been cutting into my job today. Makes me feel useless." Sinclair snorted.

"Well it's all yours now. Catherine should be back so I'm going home."

"Have fun." Sinclair gave him a sly look out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm sure we will."

XXX

"It's good to have you home," Sinclair repeated to Sakai as they finished up their dinner in his quarters. Sakai smiled back

"It's good to be back."

"So I have some news," Sinclair said as he set his empty plate on the coffee table alongside Sakai's.

"Oh?" she asked, kicking off her shoes and folding her legs up beside her on the couch.

"You'll never guess who's come to live on the Station," he said as he put an arm around her shoulders.

"Is it someone I know personally?" Sinclair smiled mysteriously and nodded. "Okay, who is it?"  
"Cherry."  
"Cherry from the Officer's Club Cherry? Wow! I haven't seen her in years! Not since we were back on Earth after the War. We wrote back and forth for a few years but then the correspondence kind of petered out. But I've wondered what happened with her. How is she?"

"Fine. She looks great. She's already got a job in the Zocalo working in a kitchen."

"Was she with anyone?" Sinclair looked downcast.

"No," he said quietly, "she's still wearing Bill's ring."  
"That's too bad. What a blast though, having her here." Sinclair got a far off look in his eyes and said nothing. "Jeff? Jeff, are you alright?" She reached out and shook him on his upper arm. "Jeff!" He started, then looked over at her.

"Hmm? What?"  
"Something on your mind?"  
"What? No." Sakai tilted her head and appraised him with a combination of sympathy and irritation.

"Don't lie to me. It's happening again, isn't it?"  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he insisted, pulling her towards him. "There's only one thing on my mind ..." He kissed her gently. "I missed you this week," he purred. Sakai giggled and kissed him back.

"I missed you too." He pulled her face back against his and resumed kissing her, caressing her shoulders and then her breasts. Sakai responded with her own pent up passion and soon enough they were rolling on the couch, tearing off each other's clothes and alternately sighing and groaning, when Sinclair's link went off. At first he ignored it, but by the third chime the mood was broken. He pulled his hand out of Sakai's hair and tapped it.

"Sinclair," he gasped, his heart still racing.

"Sorry to disturb you, Commander," Garibaldi said, "but there's been another murder." Sinclair sat upright and Sakai sighed with frustration.

"Where?" he breathed.

"The core shuttle."

"The victim ..."

"Minbari. This one's been knifed too. Are you alone?" Sinclair glanced at his lover.

"No."

"Then I'll tell you more when I see you. We've got the car stopped at Station Red Two."

"I'll be right there." He gazed at Sakai apologetically. "I'm sorry. I won't be gone long," he said, zipping his pants back up and putting on his shirt. Sakai sat upright, buttoned up her blouse and pulled her skirt on.

"I understand. Go ahead. I'll be here when you get back," she said in resignation, but at that moment hating his sense of responsibility.

XXX

"What have you got?" Sinclair asked as the medics rolled the draped gurney out of the monorail car.

"Another male Minbari, middle aged, his throat slit. But that's not all ..." Sinclair raised his eyebrows questioningly. "His genitalia was severed from his body. Someone is sending one hell of a message." Sinclair looked up to the ceiling and then down again.

"Do we have cameras watching this station?"  
"No. With the limited public surveillance rules mandated by the Courts in 2232, we don't have nearly as many cameras as I'd like to have in public areas."

"If this news hits the press or the rumor mill, we could end up with a full-scale riot on our hands"  
"I'll try to keep it quiet. I don't like this, Jeff, I don't like this a lot."

"Neither do I," Sinclair said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "And I'm not looking forward to Delenn's reaction when I tell her. She'll be furious."

"Let me tell her this time; keep it from becoming too personal." Sinclair nodded reluctantly.

"Alright. Thanks."

"I've got it from here; I'll bring you developments as they come in tomorrow. Go back to whatever you were doing." He paused and smiled evilly. "But let me be the first to tell you; sparkly purple eyeshadow doesn't do you justice." Sinclair wiped his cheeks reflexively and rolled his eyes.

"Good night, Chief."

"Good night, Commander."

XXX

"This is an outrage!" Delenn shouted the following day as she stood across from Sinclair at the upright desk in the middle of his office. By his side, Garibaldi pursed his lips and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Two Minbari have been brutally executed in a matter of days and you have arrested no one at all? What have you been doing to solve these crimes, Commander?

"Garibaldi and his team are following up on all leads and will ..." Sinclair assured her evenly.

"What leads, Commander? You just said there were no leads. I'm sure if the victims were Human ..." Sinclair raised his hands.

"Delenn, you don't mean that. You have to know we give all our cases the same attention no matter who the victims are. But I appeal to you; if you know anything about these men, about whether they had any enemies, whether or not they had a connection to each other, if they might have angered the wrong person, it might help."

"Dreval was a priest. Foroon was Worker Caste. The only thing they had in common, Commander, was that they were both Minbari!" she spat. "I expect an answer and I expect it soon!" She swept out of the office angrily. Sinclair sighed and Garibaldi raised a hand in the air uselessly.

"I know, I know; I'm on it," he promised.

XXX

Garibaldi was in Red Sector, searching for leads when he heard a woman scream. He raced over and shoved his way through the crowd of onlookers only to find a Minbari male in gold and grey robes lying prone on the floor. He knelt down and rolled the victim over and felt for a pulse. Nothing. But also no sign of a wound. He stabbed at his link. "Garibaldi to Med lab. I need a crash team in the Zocalo, stat!" He stood back up and addressed the crowd. "Anyone see what happened? Anyone?"  
"He was just walking along and keeled over," offered one Human man in a hat. Others quickly confirmed the man's report. Nothing of note had happened until the Minbari simply collapsed. Garibaldi directed the other security members arriving on the scene to get official statements. "Garibaldi to Sinclair."  
"Sinclair," his voice came back a little weary.

"I've got another dead Minbari." He heard Sinclair inhale sharply. "This one may just be a medical incident though. No obvious wounds, bystanders were present but saw nothing until he fell to the ground. Still, I thought you should know."  
"Thanks, Garibaldi. Have they taken him to Med lab?"

"Yeah, they're on their way now. See you there."

Once again they stood together in Med lab, awaiting word from Franklin.

"Well?" Garibaldi asked him impatiently.

"There's no sign of trauma on the body. So for now it looks like natural causes. Of course we won't know for certain until we perform a full autopsy." Sinclair heaved a sigh of relief and turned to Garibaldi.

"How's your investigation going?"  
"Not good. I spoke to Jinxo. Turns out he's the one who anonymously called in the first body, but he claims not to have seen anything until he stumbled upon it on the floor and I believe him. I haven't found any witnesses to the murder last night and my known anti-alien suspects have all provided credible alibis for their whereabouts. I'm stumped. Maybe we're making a mistake thinking both killings are related; maybe there are multiple assailants."

"Great."

"Just give me some more time, Commander; I'll turn up something."

"It's not me giving you time that's a problem, Mike, it's Delenn. And having that demonstration coming up isn't helping anything; we need to have this thing solved by then."

"You sure you don't want me to cancel it? We already have one crisis on our hands."

"Without that rally the anniversary is going to happen anyway and it won't look good if we mark the end of the War with a bunch of dead Minbari on our hands."

"Understood."

XXX

"So why haven't you gone out with anyone in all these years, Cherry?" Sakai asked over dinner with Sinclair and Senai in a small restaurant in the Zocalo. "I don't think Bill would want you to spend your life alone."  
"Maybe. But I still love him, Catherine. It wouldn't be fair to anyone else, knowing I'll always be missing Bill."

"But you'll never get over him if you don't get out there and live your life."  
"Who says I want to get over him? Besides, I heard from Hothead you two broke up and got together again; did that time apart mean you 'got over' each other?"

"Well, no, but that's different. Jeff was always out there …"  
"And Bill's out there too. Someplace out of reach, but he's still alive to me, Catherine, and that's all that counts." She looked to Sinclair. "You know what I mean, don't you?" Sinclair swallowed uncomfortably. "It feels like it was just yesterday, doesn't it?"  
"Yes," he whispered. He tried to shake himself out of his melancholy. "But it wasn't yesterday. It was ten years ago. That's a long time. We're friends with the Minbari now. The past is the past," he expounded unconvincingly. "Catherine's right; it's time you get yourself back out there and live the life Bill wanted you to have. If I were to die, I would want Catherine to find love again in the future, not mourn for me forever." He turned his attention to the menu.

"Well then I guess you and I are just different, Hothead. Because for me, the War is still going on."

"But I thought you were working in a Minbari restaurant," Sakai asked.

"I am. I want to meet aliens, learn about the larger universe. But that doesn't change how I feel about Bill. He was only thirty when he was taken from me. We had our whole lives mapped out; marriage, children, his Earth Force career. One day he was here, the next he was gone. And I know you think it's your fault, Jeff, but it's not. I've never believed that. Bill would be grateful you survived to remember him." Sinclair said nothing. Sakai cut in, hoping to lighten the mood.

"What are you ordering, Jeff?" He kept staring at the menu in front of him. "Jeff? Have you decided what you're getting?" She and Senai watched him with growing concern. "Jeff?"  
"What's with him?" Senai asked.  
"He's having a flashback. He hasn't had them in years, but I still recognize the signs. Jeff, can you hear me? Jeff?" Senai was especially upset by the situation, staring at Sinclair with her brows raised and a hand to her mouth.

"Jeff?" Finally, Sinclair blinked and returned to the present moment. "You should see Dr. Franklin," Sakai advised him.

"What?" He took a deep breath and leveled his shoulders. "I'm fine. Are we going to order?" Sakai huffed in frustration.

"You really should see someone, Jeff. Find out why they're back ..."

"Now is not the time to discuss this," he said lowly, flickering his eyes at Senai, but Sakai was sure he wasn't going to listen to her whenever she brought it up. She squinted at him, unhappy with this development. It was one of those arguments that they used to break up over. Suddenly Senai seemed to be right; the War was still with them in the room.

XXX

"Jeff?" Sakai asked him as she lay beside him in bed, her arm draped across his bare chest, her head on her pillow.

"Hmm?"  
"You seem so distracted. And that's twice in two days you've had flashbacks. You should at least talk about it; stop trying to stuff it down. It's because of the anniversary, isn't it?" Sinclair stared up at the ceiling and drew in a deep breath.

"It's not just that," he revealed honestly, surprising her with his willingness to accede to her request. "Though that's a big part of it. It's the memories that have come back this year. Pro-Earthers are planning a demonstration that can only lead to disaster. Someone is murdering Minbari right under my nose, Delenn's on my case about it, and Cherry, Cherry is turning out to be a big trigger."  
"It's kind of scary how much she's stuck in 2248, isn't it? I feel sorry for her."

"Me too," he agreed, twirling some of her hair around his forefinger. "But then who am I to talk?"  
"You're not living in the past, Jeff. You can't help where your subconscious mind goes, but in normal life, you're just that; normal." She put her head on his chest and listened to his heart pounding.

"A third Minbari died today. This one looks like natural causes but that would still be an unfortunate coincidence." He sat up in bed. "Damn it, Catherine, here I am trying to find out who's murdering Minbari and stop them, when ten years ago I was killing as many of them as I possibly could. It's like what just happened with the Homeguard; who am I to judge people who feel exactly the way I once did?" She sat up too and stroked his hair.

"Situations change. And you've changed along with them. You're not the same man now you were a decade ago. That's what matters." He shifted his eyes to her face and sighed.

"I wish I could be the man Cherry remembers from fourteen years ago, before the War. The one without a care in the world, the one everyone expected big things from."

"How much bigger can you get than being in charge of this whole Station?"

"I'm only here because the Minbari want me here. I can't escape them. It's like they're running my whole life, preparing me for something. I don't know what that is, and I don't want to be controlled by them. I want peace, but I can't escape the damn War; it's like a war without end constantly playing itself out in my mind." She felt his whole body stiffen beside her and when she looked at his face she saw his eyes were narrow and angry. There was really nothing she could say, so she turned around and kissed him hard. His dark reveries interrupted, he roughly pushed her down against the bed and kissed her back furiously.

XXX

The next morning, they sat in his office; Sinclair, Ivanova, Garibaldi, Franklin and Delenn.

"I can't explain it; I've never seen anything like this before; I can tell you how he died, but not why. He was only in his thirties, all his organs appear to have been functioning normally, but when we examined his esophagus it was completely closed up. It's as if something caused one side to seamlessly seal to the other. And because the trachea and esophagus join higher up than in Humans, the esophageal obstruction prevented him from breathing as well as swallowing. And that's what killed him; asphyxiation. Initial toxicology screens were all negative; we'll have final results in this afternoon. On the other hand, spectroscopy revealed an unusual molecular bond between glutamine and lysine in the tissue."

"What does that mean in layman's terms?" Sinclair asked.

"That he choked to death because something closed down his throat on a molecular level. Ambassador, is this something that happens to Minbari? Is there some kind of biological or genetic disease that kills otherwise perfectly healthy subjects by targeting the proteins in their bodies?"  
"I have never heard of such a thing, Doctor, but I confess ignorance of medicine. It was not a topic of study in Temple. But are you saying that this third death was not murder?"  
"I can't conclude anything about the reason this happened, Ambassador. At this stage I simply don't know."

"If you could get your people to expedite those medical records it might give us the answers we need," suggested Sinclair.

"And as to Dreval and Foroon?" she asked firmly but with less fury than the day before.

"We're still investigating," Garibaldi offered lamely. "We're now considering the possibility that both being Minbari has nothing to do with their deaths. There was another murder reported late last night; like the first one, this happened Down Below but the victim was Human."

"So we have an equal opportunity serial killer on our hands?" Ivanova asked.

"Hard to say. This death was by strangulation and the victim was a woman who'd previously reported an assault. Her body was left intact. But it could be the same killer using random methods on random victims." Sinclair, his chin resting against a fist, lifted his head up and spoke.

"I would consider it a personal favor, Ambassador, if you could assure your people we're bringing every resource we have to bear on this issue. Anger and panic won't serve any of us well."

"I will do what I can, Commander. I … apologize for my behavior the other day. My grief over the death of Dreval may have clouded my judgment. I should not have raised my voice to you and Mr. Garibaldi."

"Water under the bridge," Sinclair replied, "no apology is necessary."

"I was not aware there was a bridge involved in these matters."  
"It's just an expression," Sinclair smiled. "It means whatever disagreements there were have been washed away."

"I see." She stood up from her chair and turned to Franklin. "I will see what I can do about getting any information on sudden death in Minbari that our doctors may be familiar with." Franklin handed her a data crystal.

"These are my autopsy notes. I hope they'll be helpful." There was silence until she had left the room and was well down the hall.

"Do you really think this latest Human victim points away from someone with a motive to harm Minbari?" Sinclair asked Garibaldi. The latter pressed his lips together and shook his head no.

"Not a chance. She was my rape victim from earlier in the week. I'm sure whoever strangled her was acting out of fear of her testimony. The rape kit gave us a name and we're looking for the perp now. But I thought it might ease tensions with the Ambassador to say it wasn't just Minbari being targeted."

"So we have two crises on our hands? Someone killing Minbari and an unknown but deadly disease? Let's increase surveillance and Security presence around those places we know Minbari congregate. At this point we're looking for both an assailant and anyone who seems unwell. That'll be all."

XXX

At the sound of Garibaldi's voice, Sinclair looked up from his lunch in the mess hall with dread.

"Commander?"  
"Please tell me this is good news."  
"Why don't you finish whatever is on your plate first?"  
"Oh no." He set down his fork. "Who is it this time?" Garibaldi sat down across from him.

"Another Minbari."  
"Jesus Christ."  
"He was at lunch with a Centauri when he commented that his mouth felt 'funny' and his throat felt tight. According to the Centauri witness, within minutes he started gasping for breath, grabbed his neck and fell over in his chair. Medics got there within five minutes but it was already too late; he was dead. And by the way, he died in the restaurant your friend Cherry works at. She's pretty upset; you might want to check in with her later."

"What do you think is going on here, Mike?"

"That the Pro-Earth rally suddenly seems like the least of our concerns. Word has spread too. There's no keeping this quiet anymore."  
"We'd better go talk to Dr. Franklin." Garibaldi nodded. Sinclair abandoned his tray of food and the two headed to Med lab

"I expected I'd be seeing you, Commander. Chief," Franklin greeted them none too eagerly.

"Tell me you've got something for me, Doctor," Sinclair replied  
"Something. There was again evidence of the esophagus being unnaturally blocked, this time all the way from the laryngopharynx down."

"So what exactly do we know?" Garibaldi asked.

"What we have are four dead Minbari, two of whom were clearly murdered and two of whom are dead by as yet undetermined causes."

"Practically speaking, what's your best guess?" Sinclair asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"An organic disease." Sinclair's expression turned grim.

"Is there any indication it can jump species?"  
"Can what jump species, Commander? We don't even know what we're looking for let alone if it poses a threat to the larger population."  
"What do you expect me to do about this situation, Stephen?" Sinclair asked with quiet frustration. "We need to take some kind of visible action to calm fears and we can't do that if you can't tell me what we're dealing with."  
"I understand your problem, Commander, but I simply don't have enough information to be helpful. All I can say is that the first two cases appear unrelated to the last two." Sinclair stood in frustration, his posture rigid.

"Can't you give us something, anything to say to the public?" Garibaldi demanded.

"Again, only that these deaths are the result of multiple causes."

"I think we both know where this is going to go, Michael. Have your troops prepared to deal with mass unrest."

"Gotcha. And about the two murders; Delenn can claim Minbari never kill one another all she wants, but I'm gonna start looking at other Minbari as possible suspects too."

XXX

Sinclair was walking through the lower level of the Zocalo when he heard raised voices and a cry for help. He hurried over to where the sounds were coming from and found one Minbari holding up another in his arms, the second one bleeding from his side. Before Sinclair could even ask what had happened, another voice called out.

"There he goes! Stop him! Killer!" Sinclair glanced back and forth between the victim and the man pointing and shouting and opted to give chase. He ran in the direction that was indicated and heard further sounds of a commotion as the suspect raced through the Zocalo, knocking into kiosks and sending merchandise crashing to the floor. Finally he saw his quarry ahead; a man in a green jumpsuit running with what looked like a knife in one hand.

"Medics to the Zocalo," he panted into his link as he kept up the chase, "there's been a stabbing ..." The man ran around the corner and tossed aside the kitchen knife he was holding. Sinclair saw it fly by but kept up his pursuit. He reached out and just caught the back collar of the man's jumpsuit and tried to throw him down, but the man spun around on him and started fighting, throwing some wild punches that narrowly missed Sinclair's face and shoulder. Sinclair grabbed him by the front of his suit with his left hand, took careful aim with his right and connected with a blow to the jaw that dropped the concussed assailant to the floor. "Security to Corridor B off the Zocalo, I have a suspect in custody." He was flexing his hand and shaking it out when Garibaldi and Lou Welsh turned the corner. Garibaldi looked from Sinclair to the body on the floor and back again.

"How do you manage to keep doing that to people?"  
"Practice."

"So what's the story here?"

"A Minbari's been stabbed in the Zocalo and this man took off running with a knife. There should be plenty of witnesses for you to interview. The fact that a Minbari was involved … you know what I'm thinking."

"If this man is linked to the first two murders." Sinclair nodded as Welsh cuffed up the unconscious man.

"Alright; we've got it from here," Garibaldi assured Sinclair.

"Let me know when he comes around; I'd like to be there when you interview him."

XXX

"The assault was unprovoked. Witnesses say the perp simply walked up to two Minbari who were shopping, shouted something about Jesus and then stabbed one of them," Garibaldi explained to Sinclair later in Security. "I read him his rights but was waiting until you got here to talk to him."

"Okay, let's go." The two walked into the secure interview room.

"So keeping those rights I just told you in mind, do you wanna tell us what the hell that was about?" Garibaldi questioned. The man leaned in across the table from him conspiratorially.

"Christ compelled me," he declared, as if that were a normal thing to say. "The sign of the beast is upon them; look at those horns! They're agents of the Antichrist; they all must die!"

"What?" asked Garibaldi, frowning. Sinclair raised his brows.

"Those Minbari, can't you see it when you look at them? The horns! The four angels bound to the Euphrates release two hundred million; Babylon the Great must be destroyed! Babylon 5 and the Euphrates Sector; don't you get it? There is a darkness on this place; all Minbari must die to make way for the New Jerusalem!"

"Ooookay! I guess we know what's going on now, Commander." Sinclair leaned down and looked the psychotic man in the eyes, hoping for a moment of clarity.

"How many have you killed?"  
"Six by one hundred and eleven! The mark of the Beast. They must perish before the Lamb of Christ!" Sinclair and Garibaldi exchanged glances.

"I guess I've got to bring Dr. Franklin in on this one," Garibaldi remarked. Sinclair nodded, stood back up and left the interrogation room.

XXX

"Doctor Hernandez has the patient in surgery now. I can't say for certain, but I think he'll make it."

"Good. What about the knife? Any chance it's the same one used in the two murders?" Sinclair asked.  
"It would be consistent; the quality of the blade is right; we'll have to run some tests but it's definitely possible."  
"Then maybe we stopped him from killing a third time. What will happen with the suspect?"  
"We'll see if we can get him to agree to take antipsychotic medications, then re-evaluate him to see if he's competent to stand trial. It does seem like a clear case of innocent by reason of insanity, but I'm no lawyer."  
"It's a pity. Apparently he had a job in maintenance until he just stopped showing up for work three weeks ago. His foreman told Garibaldi there were signs of erratic behavior shortly before that."

"It could be the time of year set him off; ever since the War ended Earth's doctors see more and and more cases of patients suffering from severe psychiatric problems around the anniversary of the War's end. There's even a name for it; 'Minbari War Psychosis.' It's quite interesting." Franklin saw a troubled expression come to Sinclair's face. "Medically that is." He paused, debating his next words. "You were in the War, Commander. Has the anniversary been affecting you? Many healthy patients have come to me with complaints of depression, anxiety, nightmares; it's perfectly normal. Have you experienced any of those kinds of complaints?" Sinclair stared at him steadily, his face expressionless.

"No."  
"Well good. Good. Just so you know, if any issues arise, I'm here."

"Thank you for the information, Doctor, but I don't anticipate needing your services. Anything new on what sickened the Minbari?"  
"No," Franklin responded reluctantly. "The data from Minbar can't arrive soon enough."

"Do you still believe it to be a disease?"  
"As far as I can tell. It's certainly not anything I'm familiar with, though."

"If we can identify an affected victim earlier, would you be able to save them?

"It would have to be almost immediately, so we could intubate them right away before they completely lost the ability to breathe. And without knowing why their esophagus is sealing so seamlessly, any operation would be experimental. Survival would still be uncertain. As I said, this is a medical mystery."

"It's also becoming a cause for panic ..." Sinclair had barely spoken when before him space exploded into the blue flowers of a hundred Minbari jump points opening. When he returned to Med lab, Franklin was looking at him suspiciously.

"Commander? Are you alright, Commander?" Sinclair blinked rapidly.

"Yes, I was just thinking of something … keep me posted, Doctor; I have other things I need to attend to." He went out into the hall and leaned against the wall, waiting for his heart to stop racing and thinking that the timing of that quick flashback couldn't have been worse. The last thing he needed was to give Franklin any doubt about his fitness for duty.

XXX

"Aziz told me you talked with him, so what is it you want from me, Commander Sinclair?"  
Sinclair put on his most disarming smile and gestured for his guest to sit on the couch in his office. He had to try one more time.

"Would you like some coffee, Ms. Hernandez? It's the real stuff."

"Who would turn down an offer like that?" she said, smiling back. "Where on the Station did you get that from?"  
"I have my sources," Sinclair explained mysteriously. "Now about this rally. As Mr. Aziz may have mentioned, I'm merely concerned about keeping order on this Station and I fear your planned event will not be well received by many here ..."  
"Well sure, they probably believe all that slanted pro-alien reporting they do on ISN. That just makes it more important for us to present the facts. Like where is Santiago's birth certificate? How can he preside over Earth when he can't even prove he's not a Marsie? As an Earther, doesn't that trouble you?"  
"Actually, Ms. Hernandez, I was born on Mars."

"Oh." She began to backpedal slightly. "But this is about the truth more than where he's from. How can we trust someone who lies about his birthplace? And that's not all. He's come right out and advocated alien immigration, which is against every hardworking, patriotic Human's interests; after all, we're the backbone of Earth and at this rate, Santiago will have everyone speaking Minbari. It's time to take back Earth for Earthers, Commander, and that's the message we intend to express at our rally. We're not violent people; we want electoral change."

"But why now, Ms. Hernandez? The elections are over. You must recognize that this is a sensitive time ..."

"That's why it needs to be now, Commander, while everyone is reflecting on recent history. Now is when the threat is made most clear. We cannot trust Santiago and aliens are not our friends."

"Then I can't convince you to reconsider? To hold your rally next month, perhaps?"  
"I'm sorry, Commander. You seem like a very nice man and I know you have a job to do, but the truth must be told." She stood up and offered her hand, which Sinclair reluctantly shook as he rose. "Thank you very much for the coffee. I brought you some brochures that I hope you'll find enlightening and consider when the mid-year elections come up. Good day, Commander," she said, leaving the literature on his table.

"Good day," he repeated, sadly shoving his hands into his pockets. Like it or not, and he did not, the rally was still on.

Moments later, a familiar but unwelcome guest invited herself into the room with a microphone and a floating recorder, her permed blonde hair bobbing.

"Mary Ann Cramer with Interstellar News Network. I'm here with Commander Jeffrey Sinclair of Babylon 5. Commander Sinclair, several reliable sources report that there is a deadly and contagious disease spreading through the Minbari population aboard this Station. What assurances can you give that we're not at the beginning of an outbreak threatening the lives of every man, woman and alien on Babylon 5?" She shoved the microphone in his face.

"These are unsubstantiated rumors," he insisted, "and my medical staff assures me there is no reason at this time to believe anyone is in any danger."  
"Some propose that a general quarantine should be put in place to protect the citizens of this Station from potentially infected Minbari patients. What is your response to this recommendation?" Sinclair was surprised as he hadn't heard any such talk, but he had a good guess who might have started it.

"This is the first I am hearing talk of a quarantine; I can assure your viewers that no such order has been considered," Sinclair answered as evenly as he could manage.

"But what is to prevent this epidemic from spreading to other worlds, given Babylon 5's position as a major interplanetary port?"  
"There is no evidence of any kind of epidemic on Babylon 5. Now, if you'll excuse me ..." he brushed past her and headed for Command and Control, not because he had any need to be there, but simply to avoid more questions from her. When she didn't follow after him, he considered it one of the best things that had happened in days.

XXX

"We believe we may have apprehended the person responsible for the two murders of Minbari, Ambassador. I caught a mentally ill Human who was witnessed stabbing another Minbari earlier today. The latter has survived surgery and the latest on his prognosis is good. The knife appears to be similar to the murder weapon; further tests will confirm a match." Sinclair explained to Delenn in the briefing room.

"Thank you, Commander," Delenn said with relief. "This is obviously a welcome development; our community will as you say, breathe a little easier, knowing that the threat of further violence is gone. What exactly was his reason for the killings?"  
"As I said, he is seriously mentally disturbed. He convinced himself that some obscure passages in a holy book indicated that your people were demons who had to die in order for a new paradise to be created."  
"Demons?" she questioned. "I am unfamiliar with this term."  
"Evil supernatural beings who can sway mortal men into sin and bad deeds. Some believe they can take control or 'possess' Humans and use them to further their malign agenda."  
"How strange. We on Minbar have no such concept as all the negative forces in our lives, like the Jhak'tot for example, genuinely exist; they are not supernatural. There are, however, beings I believe your people would call 'angels,' sources of prophecy and good in the world, but again, they are real and said to have accompanied Valen when he first arrived among our people. What will happen to this man, the killer?"  
"We'll try to get him to take medications to suppress his delusions and if successful, he'll be held for trial. The likelihood is that he will spend some time in a hospital for people who have committed crimes while mentally ill, and if he complies with a medication schedule, ultimately be released back into society, but under supervision. He held a skilled labor job prior to this psychotic break, so there is every hope he will make a full recovery."  
"I am glad to hear this. It would be unjust to do otherwise with someone who committed a crime he is not truly responsible for."  
"I agree. And yet two or three hundred years ago, that's exactly what would have happened to him on Earth. He would be charged as if he had freely decided to kill and be sent to prison for a lifetime. At any rate," he smiled, "I believe Babylon 5 is again a safe place for all races again."

XXX

"So how long is she gone for this time?" Garibaldi asked as he sat down on the couch in Sinclair's quarters. Sinclair answered from the kitchenette.

"Just until tomorrow. A quick resurvey of something. You want popcorn?"  
"That'd be great. Wow, you guys really like this couch!" Garibaldi said, waving a pair of Sakai's leopard print underwear in the air. Sinclair dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling. "Hey, if you don't want me to keep finding this stuff you need to tidy up the place more often. So did the bra match?" Sinclair sighed and gave up.

"Yes."  
"See now, that's class." Sinclair came around and handed Garibaldi a bowl of popcorn before shoving the panties in his pocket. "Hey, so Jeff, I've been meaning to ask …"

"Oh God, what now?" he bemoaned, sitting down.

"No, nothing about that. With all this stuff going on with the Minbari and the anniversary of the end of the War coming up, how are you holding up?" Sinclair's immediate impulse was to claim, as he did to Franklin, that he was fine, but this was his best friend asking. It was hard to lie to him.

"Lousy. I've had a few flashbacks. And of course the dreams. It's been over two weeks since we last made it through the night without me waking us both up. Sometimes now I dream one of my friends is demanding to know why they're dead and I'm not." Garibaldi whistled.

"Damn, that must be horrible. But you know it's just luck, right? I'm sure there was nothing you could do that you didn't, right?" Sinclair shook his head forlornly.

"It wasn't just luck; the damn Minbari chose me. That's why I'm alive."

"But _that_ was luck. They didn't know who they were picking to take on board. It could have been anyone on your team."

"I guess. They were eleven great people, Mike. We all agreed on my asking to lead the fleet, what was left of it, out. But still … maybe if I hadn't floated the idea they'd've all been in the rear somewhere. Maybe some of them would have made it. And Bill, breaking formation to save me … God, how I wish he hadn't done that." Garibaldi nodded sympathetically.

"You're the kind of guy people want to follow, Jeff, the kind of guy we want to serve and protect. That's just how it is. Because we know you'd do it for us, so ..."  
"I think Catherine could've handled my death better than Cherry's dealt, or not dealt, with Bill's. He was such a sweet guy; everybody liked him. And man, the stupid shit we used to do together. The kind of stuff that seems perfectly normal at the time, but when you look back … I guess we were just young and innocent. The War made us grow up fast."  
"You saw other action earlier in the War, didn't you?"  
"Yeah. Picking off their Nial Fighters, drawing fire away from our heavy Cruisers, that kind of thing. I killed a lot of Minbari, Michael, and I know not many veterans can say that. You had to be able to take accurate visual aim without computer assistance because of their ability to block our sensors. But my friend Devorah, she was almost as good as I and she was right out of flight school. She probably could have bested me if she'd gotten the chance. But of course she didn't ..."

"You were brave sons of bitches, Jeff; you did us all proud."  
"But none of it was damned necessary," Sinclair cursed. "All that death over a simple misunderstanding. One stupid move by one Captain leaping to conclusions. And what made the Minbari stop fighting? What did they get out of torturing and interrogating me? I still don't remember saying a word. And even if I _did_ say something, did it have anything to do with why they surrendered? If so, what the hell could it have possibly been? They were a hundred and fifty thousand klicks from killing every man, woman and child on Earth; what could I have said to avert all of that?" They ruminated silently on that thought.

"I think 'there lies madness,' Jeff. Trying to figure that out is impossible. You'll just drive yourself crazy. And in the end, what does it matter? Whatever it was, something stopped them cold. They surrendered."  
"They surrendered," Sinclair repeated quietly. "And now they're counting on me to protect them from an illness and I'm doing a pretty lousy job."

"Hey, don't take that on yourself. You can't control the fact that disease can strike people here. Thanks for talking to me like this,Jeff. I know I can't replace your friend Bill, but I appreciate you opening up to me. No one else has that kind of faith in me."

"You should have more of it for yourself," Sinclair admonished. Garibaldi grabbed a handful of popcorn.

"Hey, so you think you could fix me up with your friend Cherry?"

"You heard her; she doesn't want to go out with anyone."  
"Yeah, but that's in the abstract, right? What if there were an opportunity right in front of her?"  
"I think right now you have too much of that faith in yourself," Sinclair laughed.

"It wouldn't hurt for you to ask, would it?"

"Ask her yourself."

"That's not the way it goes down with her. You ask her out, she says yes, then some other poor shlub shows up and out of courtesy, she goes out with him. Must be that great voice you have; women fall all over themselves for it. Hell, I think it's pretty good and I'm a guy." Sinclair rolled his eyes but smiled genuinely for the first time in a while.

"I thought you didn't date either?"  
"Yeah, but for her I'd be willing to give it a shot. I already checked on her background and it matches what you said."

"So wait, are you suspicious of her or don't you trust what I tell you?"  
"I already told you I only trust you, but still, you could be mistaken." Sinclair gave him a look.  
"Alright, I'll think about it. Have you got that sequel for us to watch or don't you?"

"Yeah, here, I'll pop it in. But remember, I have a couch too, but it lacks stories to tell."

XXX

"I know it was you, Fredo; you broke my heart. You broke my heart!" At that dramatic moment in their vid, Sinclair's link chirped.

"Pause program. Sinclair."  
"Is the Chief there with you, Commander? There's been another death." Sinclair exchanged an unhappy look with Garibaldi.

"Where were they found this time, Officer Welsh?"

"Customs." Garibaldi got up.

"I'm on it," he said to Sinclair. "Tell Lou I'll be there soon. And have him call Dr. Franklin. The Corleones will have to wait." Sinclair nodded in morose agreement.

XXX

"I demand you give me an answer, Commander," Ambassador G'Kar sputtered as he confronted Sinclair the next morning. "Who or what is killing Minbari and are the rest of us targets as well?" He pounded his fist on Sinclair's desk. Sinclair sat up straighter and pulled in a deep breath to compose himself.

"I'm afraid I cannot answer these questions at this time, Ambassador," he said as evenly and quietly as he could manage. His apparent calm only further agitated G'Kar.

"That is an unacceptable response, Sinclair!" he responded, spitting out the other man's name. "I assure you, should any harm come to any citizens of Narn, there will be retribution!"

Sinclair stood up to his full height, stepped towards G'Kar and stared directly into his red eyes.

"Don't threaten me, Ambassador," he whispered with equal venom, "or you'll come to regret it." He walked back behind his desk. "We believe we've captured the killer. As far as the other deceased people are concerned, the condition has only affected Minbari. There is no reason at this time to believe otherwise."

"And what assurances can you offer to support that statement?" G'Kar continued, still in high dungeon.

"I have full confidence in Dr. Franklin and his entire medical team. That is all I can say to you at this time." He sat back down and folded his hands, signaling that he was through talking. G'Kar stared at him, exclaimed an inarticulate cry in Narn and rushed from the room, his cape sweeping around the corner after him. Sinclair's link chirped and he dropped his head into his hands before answering.

"Sinclair."

"We've got another one, Jeff. This time in the Minbari chapel."

"On my way," he replied in resignation. He stepped out into the hallway and narrowly avoided a collision with Londo Mollari.

"My good, dear friend, Commander Sinclair, I expect you will be ordering an immediate quarantine of all Minbari on this station, no?" Sinclair frowned; his intuition was right.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" Mollari demanded, following Sinclair down the hall. "They are dropping to the left and to the right! We must all be protected from them at once!"

"No one but Minbari have been affected, Ambassador, and there's no reason to believe anyone else will be."  
"You cannot expect us to take that chance!" Mollari exclaimed, grabbing hold of Sinclair's arm. "We must be separated from these bone-headed vermin before it's too late!" Angered by his blatant racism, Sinclair backed him into a wall.

"I would be happy to throw you in the brig, Ambassador, where I can assure you that you will be very, very safe." He peeled the Centauri's hand off his forearm and began walking away.

"You won't get away with this, Sinclair!" Mollari bellowed after him, "I'll be bringing this matter up before a full assembly!"

XXX

When Sinclair entered the chapel, there was still a cluster of Religious Caste Minbari against one wall, nervously eyeing their fallen comrade's body. There was a small pool of vomit next to the deceased man and Garibaldi was sniffing a take-out cup that had been on the table alongside a candle and some bells.

"Anything?" Sinclair inquired.

"I dunno, is this stuff supposed to smell like this?"  
"Why are you asking me?"  
"You spent a whole day eating donuts* with them, I figured ..."

"Alright, alright," Sinclair interrupted, reaching over to take the cup. He sniffed at it. "Smells like tim'fa juice. Nothing suspicious about that, in and of itself."  
"Okay then," Garibaldi replied, taking back the cup and putting it back on the table. "I'll still have it tested, but I'll bet Franklin's gonna find something sealed up in this guy too." A medical team arrived on the scene and the pair stepped away from the body. "I want statements from everyone in this room," Garibaldi ordered two security team members, then turned his attention to the cup again. "Sector 47," he observed. "That's where they all eat; Sector 47, McBari's and what's that third place? "Land o' Flarn' or something?"  
"I think it's 'Flarnlandia.'"

"Right. I wonder if they're spreading something to each other by all eating and congregating in the same places? But meanwhile other races eat in those joints too and haven't fallen ill. I had McBari's for dinner last night myself. Thought I'd show a little solidarity. So whatever it is seems to only effect Minbari."

"At least there's that."

"Hey, the victim last night looked the same; dead, no signs of trauma otherwise."  
"Well we can't come up with an answer soon enough. Londo is demanding a blanket quarantine on all Minbari and G'Kar is up in arms. You better put your head together with Franklin's and come up with something soon." 

*Refers to an event in the story "Captives."

XXX

There was a growing and angry mob gathered at the doorway to Sector 47. Comprised of both Humans and a half dozen alien races, they were chanting "shut it down, lock them up," over and over again. Sinclair jostled his way through them and into the nearly empty restaurant. The only guests were Minbari. Cherry, dressed in a white cook's smock and cap was standing near one of the windows that looked out on the Zocalo, watching the protest.

"Cherry," Sinclair said as he approached her.

"Jeff!" she cried. "What's going on? Someone died here the other day! They're talking about shutting us down. I don't know what to do – is it safe for me to keep working here?" Sinclair paused before answering.  
"I don't know. But so far the only victims have been Minbari. We're working on the

assumption it's a solely Minbari disease of some kind."  
"A disease? Is that what this is? What do your doctors know?"

"Just that something is shutting down their ability to breathe. That's all we're sure of."

"Alright, break it up, break it up," shouted Lou Welch, freshly arrived on the scene with a

crew of security guards in riot gear. "Go on, get outta here, go home …"

"Look, Cherry, if you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know."  
"Absolutely," she assured him as the crowd began to disperse.

"Are you going to be alright?"  
"I guess I will be once I get over the shock of seeing that dead man. Thank you Jeff. Thanks for checking on me." He reached over and gave her a quick one-armed hug and then left the restaurant. Within minutes, his link went off. With pure dread he tapped it.

"Sinclair."

"Commander, G'Kar and Londo are up here demanding you call for an emergency meeting of the Council. They're refusing to leave until you do," Ivanova said, "but give me the word and I'll shove them out the nearest airlock."

"Alright. Tell them we'll meet tomorrow at ten. Then if they don't leave, the air lock it is."

"Understood, Commander." No sooner was he done with Ivanova then his link chimed again.

"Sinclair," he sighed.

"We've got another one," said Garibaldi. "This time in the residential sector, right outside the victim's door."

"Do you need me there?"  
"No, everything seems to fit the same pattern here as at the other locations. No visible wounds, no signs of a struggle, nothing obvious left at the scene. We'll do our usual crime scene investigation and I'll get back to you."

"Thanks, Garibaldi."

A few hours later, Garibaldi visited Sinclair in Command and Control.

"Well, Commander, it was just as I expected; autopsy showed part of his throat was closed up. I dunno for sure if it's a disease or not, but if it is, it sure seems to be spreading."

"I'm not sure who's been handing out the medical school diplomas, but everyone else on board seems to be sure; G'Kar and Londo have demanded a full assembly of the Council tomorrow to discuss quarantining all the Minbari. If I can persuade enough of the members of the League of Non-Aligned Worlds to vote no, we'll have enough support to vote it down. Anyway, while you come bringing me bad news, I bear to you the good; you're on. Tonight, nineteen hundred and thirty, the Fresh Air restaurant."

"What? You mean with Cherry? Alright! How'd you do it?"

"I told her you just wanted to take her out, that you weren't necessarily expecting it to go anywhere and that she should give dating a chance. More specifically, dating you. I also lied and said you were a gentleman," he added with a crooked smile.

"Gee, thanks a lot," Garibaldi complained. "But I mean, thanks a lot! This should be fun."  
"Just remember she's still leery about the idea of going out with anyone. And call it off if you'll be bothered by her mentioning Bill, because I'm sure he'll come up in conversation."

"Nah, that's fine. Did she ask anything about me?"  
"Not really … she said she thought it was pretty funny the way you invited yourself and Ivanova out with us when she came aboard."  
"It was that obvious?"  
"Mike, a blind man could have seen it from Europa." Garibaldi cringed sheepishly.

"Whatdya want from me? I'm out of practice. Say, did you tell her about my little problem?" He quickly made the drinking gesture with his hand.

"No. Why would I? You have it under control; that makes it your business. Tell her yourself if you want to. I wouldn't expect it to phase a former bartender."

"You know, I'm grateful and all, but did you have to make it at the most expensive place on the Station?" Sinclair lifted his eyebrows and looked at Garibaldi hard.

"Are you actually complaining? I got a woman who hasn't been involved with a man in a decade to agree to go out with you ..."

"Forget I said anything. Really."

"And remember, I think of this woman as a sister; you better treat her right."  
"Right, got it, no suggesting we split an entree. This'll be great. Thanks again." Garibaldi left the office and Sinclair rolled his eyes and smiled to himself.

XXX

"You look exhausted," Sakai observed to Sinclair as he entered his quarters and stripped off his jacket.

"You have no idea," he said, slumping down onto the couch.

"Do you keep hours like this all the time or just save them for when I'm here?"  
"Only when things are going wrong. Which seems like a lot of the time in this job. The mess hall's already closed; do we have any food ..."

"I'd made dinner to surprise you. It's probably kind of dried out but I kept it warm for you."  
"Oh, great! Thanks," he said, rolling up his sleeves and standing back up.

"Sit down, I'll bring it over for you. Have you learned what's going on?"  
"We've caught the killer, but an unknown disease is striking Minbari. I had to tell Delenn that the Centauri and the Narn have called for an emergency meeting to declare quarantine on all the Minbari on the Station. I spent the last hour and a half visiting the Abbai, Drazi and Marcab representatives trying to convince them to vote no tomorrow … thanks … " As soon as she set the plate down in front of him and handed him a fork, he dug into the food without even looking at what he was eating. "But I don't think I succeeded. Just say the word 'disease' and people get paranoid. The fact that it may or may not be one doesn't calm anyone either. We've never had a quarantine before. If I have to order one, it'll mean tens of thousands of Minbari will be confined to their quarters, be forced to close their businesses, have to rely on take out food, have to call in for medical aid, and have no opportunity to go to religious services; it goes on and on." He shook his head.

"I'm sure Dr. Franklin will figure it out soon."

"But how many more will die before he does?" His link chirped. "Sinclair."

"Commander, there's a Gold Channel message to you from Senator Hidoshi." Sinclair looked over at Sakai with a defeated expression. "Put it through. Senator?" Sinclair said in his most professional voice as he walked over to his view screen.

"Commander Sinclair. It has come to the attention of the Senate that an Emergency Meeting of the Babylon 5 Advisory Council has been called to discuss a quarantine of all Minbari residents; is this true?" Sinclair started pacing back and forth.

"Yes, Senator. Certain members of the Council believe there is a communicable disease among the Minbari that might be spread to them. But there is absolutely no medical evidence to support that belief."  
"But is it true that there's a disease killing Minbari?"  
"That is uncertain at this time. We have four individuals out of some twenty or thirty thousand Minbari aboard who have died of undetermined causes. To make this into a story about an epidemic is …"  
"Sinclair, you must realize how alarming the very possibility is aboard a sealed environment such as Babylon 5. It is absolutely necessary that such an illness not be permitted to spread."  
"With respect, Senator, if we were to issue quarantine orders every time four people died of the same condition, we'd be closed down permanently!"

"I understand your frustration, Commander, but you must know that the Centauri and Narn governments have contacted Earth Gov directly ..."  
"What?" Sinclair blurted out.

"They have requested action be taken. Never before have those two governments been in agreement on such a manner, as you well know. It made quite an impression on the Senate."

"Please, Senator. With a little more time ..."  
"I'm sorry, Sinclair, but the Senate Committee on Off-World Installations has decided that Earth will be voting 'yes' with regard to the quarantine order."  
"Senator! Do you realize the impact this may have on Earth-Minbari relations? And at this particular time ..."  
"I understand, Sinclair, but candidly, I believe some members of the Committee may have directed this order precisely because of the upcoming anniversary. There is a desire on the part of many to emphasize that Earth won the War."  
"We won nothing!" Sinclair burst out, his eyes wide and angry.

"Commander, you will be voting 'yes' for the quarantine. These are your orders. Hidoshi out." Sinclair spun around to look at Sakai, as close to raving as he got.

"Those bastards G'Kar and Londo; they went around my back to tie my hands! I ought to ..."

"Jeff, calm down. There's nothing getting angry about it now can change. Finish your dinner and we'll go out for drinks and unwind a little ..." Sinclair snatched his jacket off the back of the sofa.

"I've got to go warn Delenn," he declared, rushing out the door.

XXX

"This demand for quarantine is an especially unfortunate development," Delenn said to Sinclair as they sat on her couch, Delenn with her knees together and hands folded in her lap, Sinclair sitting with his legs spread along half the length of the sofa, his hands still in fists. "And I greatly appreciate you coming to tell me about it, Commander, but it seems there is little we can do."

"I can't believe how calm you are hearing about it."

"Calm? I am not calm, Commander. I am greatly disappointed in Earth's decision. I expect no better from the Narn and the Centauri, but I did of your people. However if this thing is to happen, it will happen. What matters most is that your Doctor Franklin and Mr. Garibaldi determine who or what is responsible for these deaths, at which point you may, I assume, reverse your government's orders?"

"A reversal will have to come from the Senate now. I no longer have authority over the situation." He wasn't aware of how hard he was frowning.

"And this angers you; being powerless," she observed. "Then we find ourselves in a similar position, Commander, for I may be powerless to prevent the temporary imprisonment of my people." She paused briefly. "Would you like to join me for a walk in the garden, Commander?" she asked abruptly.

"Now?" She laughed.

"Yes, now, for by this time tomorrow I may not be able to do so; indefinitely."  
"You and Lennier have diplomatic immunity; I'll be sure to enforce that," he protested.

"Come," she said, standing up, her purple and turquoise robes rustling. "I think we would both benefit from some time among green growing things."

XXX

"What an amazing place," Cherry exclaimed, taking in the view of the fields running through the core that comprised the "ceiling" of Fresh Air.

"It's B5's only five star restaurant," Garibaldi told her. "Got a great write up in Zagat's Off-World edition."

"This really wasn't necessary, though," she assured him as they were seated by the maitre d'. "I would have been happy with pizza." Me too, he wanted to say, but kept that to himself.

"Everyone should eat here at least once," he offered. "So how do you like living on the Station so far?" He asked, picking up the menu.

"It's been terrific. Except for the man dying in the restaurant of course. I'd been wanting to leave Earth for a while now, to see other places, so I saved up some money and decided to go for it. What's it like for you, working here?"  
Great. Really the opportunity of a lifetime. Jeff hand-picked me for the job, and it's been an exciting experience so far. There's always something new happening here and Jeff's got everyone's back, so you can take risks and go on hunches, really do police work without having your hands tied behind your back."  
"Hothead's a wonderful guy," she agreed. "Between you and me, I was really let down when he didn't show up for that date. I had a thing for him. Kinda still do," she confided, "but it all worked out for the best; I got Bill and he got Catherine."

"For a while there it looked like they were the worst thing that ever happened to each of them, but not anymore."  
"Oh really? I didn't see any of that; I saw them in the beginning. They were so happy together, and Jeff seemed a lot more relaxed back then."

"When things are going well with them they go really, really well. But when they don't, it's epic. You don't want to go near either of them without full riot gear on. Bio-armor if you can get it."

"So tell me a bit about yourself."

"There's not much to tell. I joined Earth Force Marine Corps just before the War and worked Security on a really terrible assignment on Europa. It was just a cesspool. Then the War broke out and I was transferred to Infantry. Life as a Gropo was even worse, as you can imagine. I was stationed on a moon off Vega II when the Minbari came through. Supplies were cut off for a month and all you could think about was food. The whole unit came close to starving to death. After the War I started working Security again. But then I got myself into some trouble, got knocked around a bit; to be honest, I don't have much of a record. A few years go by and I was a shuttle pilot on Mars. Got hired by this hard-ass hero of The Line for a job that's still classified. Some stuff went down I can't talk about and then it was just Jeff and me with fifty miles of Syria Planum to cover on foot. We got to know each other real well and when he got the assignment to run B5, he hired me on. And now we're here."

"Could I get either of you a drink?" the waiter asked.

"Just some white wine, please."

"Water for me. So what about you? This your first time off Earth?"  
"Yup. I grew up in Washington, the State of Columbia and then when I was twenty I moved to Earth Dome. Bar-tended at the Officer's Club as you heard, met Jeff and Bill and everything was wonderful until the War. We had the kind of relationship you're lucky to get once in a lifetime, where the other person is everything to you and they feel the same way back. You ever have a relationship like that?"  
"Yeah," Garibaldi said, thinking of Lise Hampton, "But with us it wasn't meant to be. She's married to some other guy now and has a kid with him."

"Sorry to hear that. You must feel about him a little like I do about the Minbari."  
"So why work for them?" he asked curiously.  
"I realize they're here to stay so I may as well get used to it. Anyway, since the War I've worked here and there on Earth, went to culinary school. But I just haven't really been living since Bill died. I need a new start. I've thought about trying out life on Babylon 5 ever since hearing that Jeff was here and I finally decided it was time to go for it. I didn't know if he and Catherine were still together. Guess I was a little disappointed; for me, not them, to learn they are. But hey, that was a long shot; I figured he'd probably be with someone. A guy like him doesn't stay available very long."

"So, uh, you've been carrying a torch for him this whole time?"  
"No, I wouldn't say that. Maybe it's just because he and Bill were so close; if I couldn't have Bill … But don't tell Jeff or Catherine I said that, okay?"

"Uh, sure," Garibaldi agreed, feeling uncomfortable. There was no chance in hell he was going to tell them that Sinclair was the only one who felt a familial bond. "Had a chance to look at the menu yet?"

"The trill sounds good. Or maybe the zoolow with fresh pasta. I've liked the Centauri fish dishes I tried on Earth. How about you?"  
"I'll go with the fettuccine alfredo. I prefer Human food myself. Love to cook it, love to eat it."

"You're a cook too?"  
"Well just amateur, you know. For myself and a friend, that kind of thing."

"We should make something together some time. I know we'd never find injera out here, but I can teach you how to make a berbere mixture that'll set your hair on fire. Are you game?"  
"Yeah, maybe. Look, I gotta ask, Cherry. Why'd you agree to go out with me?"  
"You're funny, kind of cute and I don't know, seeing Jeff and Catherine together makes me feel lonely."

"But I'm not him. Or Bill."  
"No, but you're not without your own charms," she smiled at him. Despite himself, Garibaldi smiled back.

"Thanks." The waiter came and took their orders, and for the rest of their dinner neither mentioned Sinclair or Mitchell again. They laughed together over real coffee and shared a dessert and when they were done he walked her back to her room in Green Sector. Still, he was surprised when she asked him in.

"This is pretty nice," he said looking around and making conversation. "I think it might be bigger than my place."  
"I don't know how long I can afford to stay here; do rooms become available here often?"  
"Yeah, we've got a pretty transient population; you shouldn't have a problem finding someplace less expensive if you want."

"Well, I guess I'll enjoy it while I can," she said, sitting down on the couch. "I'd ask you if you want a drink, but I noticed you didn't at the restaurant."  
"No, I don't drink anymore. That a problem?"  
"Of course not." He sat down next to her and was struck again by how very attractive she was. She had incredibly expressive dark eyes, high cheekbones and long, tightly curling locks that flowed down past her delicate shoulders. As they sat side by side, he noticed too that she was nearly the same height as he was.

"So … I had a really good time with you tonight," he said leaning in towards her.

"Me too. Jeff was right; he said I'd like you."

"Uh, could we not talk about Jeff anymore?" She looked at him with lazy eyes.

"Sure." She leaned over and to his surprise, kissed him. Garibaldi pulled her closer and kissed her back with enthusiasm; he hadn't been alone with a woman since Lise left him two years before. The more intimate they became, however, the more he thought about the fact that she'd rather be making out with Sinclair. He was prepared to be compared to a long-dead fiance but not that. He pulled back and she looked at him with surprise.

"What's wrong?"  
"Uh ..." How was he going to put it? "I, uh … are you sure you want to be doing this with me?" She frowned at him.

"Why would I be doing it if I didn't want to?"  
"Well you've talked a lot about Jeff and just a week and a half ago you were saying Bill was it for you. What changed?"  
"You're really a buzzkill, you know that?"  
"_I'm_ a buzzkill? All night you've been talking about how you want to be with my friend."

"You brought him up first."  
"I didn't say I had a crush on him!"

"Do you?" she asked, deadpan. They stared at each other and started to laugh until they were breathless. "Alright, I should have kept that to myself. But I really like you, Michael. You make me laugh. I've missed having someone to laugh with … among other things."

"I like you too, but right now I can't kiss you without thinking about you thinking about him, and that's a total turnoff."  
"Well, for one of us anyway," she joked. Garibaldi couldn't help but laugh.

"You're really a lot of fun, you know that, Cherry?"  
"You want to give this another try?" Garibaldi considered the situation.

"Yeah, what the hell. Just promise you won't whisper his name."

XXX

Sinclair hung his jacket off the corner of his floor-length mirror and pushed open the sliding doors that closed off his bedroom. Sakai, wearing a silky black nightgown with the sheets and blankets pulled up to her waist, sat in bed reading.

"Sorry for running out on you like that," Sinclair apologized in his soft, deep voice. He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned across it to give her a short kiss.

"I understand. I had some paperwork I was able to catch up on. I wanted to tell you that I got together with Cherry for a quick coffee break. She's a lot more wounded than she let us know the other day." She appraised Sinclair approvingly as he took off his shirt, admiring his muscles and the just-right amount of black hair on his chest. "Seems she knew what a touchy subject the War and the Minbari are for you, so she held back. But she's still where you were ages ago; angry at them and resentful of their involvement with Earth and the Station." Sinclair frowned as he took off his pants. Sakai's eyes dropped and lingered.

"Seems like there's a lot of that going around. So why did she want to work in a Minbari restaurant of all places?"

"She's recently been going for therapy. Seems her psychiatrist recommended it as a kind of exposure therapy; for her to get used to the fact that they're here and not leaving, to see that they're not a threat anymore."

"Why didn't she say any of this to me?" Sinclair asked, disappointed.

"Like I said, she knows it's been tough for you too. She remembers five years ago when you took leave on Earth and visited her during the fifth anniversary ceremonies. According to her, they really threw you off balance. And then when you started having a flashback the other day, she figured she shouldn't say any more. She cares about you Jeff, and doesn't want to hurt you."  
"But still, we go so far back; she should feel safe talking to me about whatever." He took his clothes and dumped them in the hamper.

"Well then maybe you should tell her that yourself."

"I guess so. Meanwhile, she's actually agreed to a date with Garibaldi! They're probably on it now, if things went well."  
"Wait, what?" She stopped him at the door. "Cherry doesn't date. Neither does Garibaldi. How did this happen?"  
"Garibaldi asked me to ask her so I did and she did. Guess I'm just good at asking women out," he teased with an evil grin.

"No, you're good at asking Cherry out. And you'd better not start practicing to see if you can succeed with anyone else." Sinclair chuckled then pointed to the bathroom with his thumb. "I'm going to take a shower." She nodded and returned her attention to her reader. Fifteen minutes later he came out, pulled on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and slid into bed beside her. "Cath, you didn't tell her anything about my memory coming back, did you?"  
"No, of course not. I know you don't want to chance any talk of that getting back to Delenn." She set her reader aside on the nightstand. "You shouldn't have bothered to put on any clothes, you know," she told him seductively.

"Oh no?" Sakai put her hands on his chest and pushed him against the headboard.

"No," she whispered, ruffling her hand through the short, prickly hair on his head, and there was no more talk of Cherry or the War.

XXX

As Sinclair and Delenn took their places at the Council room table, members of the League of Non-Aligned Worlds began to file in, several wearing surgical face masks. Londo arrived sporting one as well, but it was G'Kar who made the most ostentatious display, walking in wearing one of the full-face, oxygen-supplying masks worn when one visited the Alien Sector. Before sitting down next to Delenn, he dragged his chair to the far edge of the table. Sinclair glanced at him with disgust, Delenn with mild distain. Sinclair picked up the gavel and banged it twice, bringing silence to the chamber.

"I hereby call this Emergency Session of the Babylon 5 Advisory Council to order. As this meeting has been initiated by Ambassadors G'Kar and Mollari, I am turning the floor over to them first." G'Kar leapt lightly to his feet.

"We are here," he began, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask, "for one reason and one reason only; self-preservation. As everyone here is well aware, some unknown and deadly disease," he emphasized the word "deadly," "has been spreading among the Minbari population aboard this Station, killing at least four such persons that we know of." He stressed his last four words. "Commander Sinclair would have us stand by idly, waiting for this fatal illness to strike one of us, but I say this is unacceptable! We must think first not of the unfortunate plight of the Minbari," he gestured loosely at Delenn, "but of our respective peoples and their well being. Therefore I call for a vote to order an immediate quarantine of all Minbari aboard Babylon 5 for the greater good. At such time as a cure for this illness is discovered, we can then of course withdraw the order." Sweeping his cloak to the side foppishly, he took his seat.

"Ambassador Mollari?" Sinclair invited.

"For perhaps the first time in their history, the Narn have spoken wisely. The Centauri Empire will not risk its citizens' lives at home or abroad. I appeal to my good, dear friends in the League of Non-Aligned Worlds to vote with us and protect their people as well." Sinclair turned to his right.

"Ambassador Delenn?"  
"Speaking for not only my people but for science," she said imperiously as she too stood up to address the room, "there is no evidence whatsoever to believe there is any widespread, communicable disease plaguing the Minbari. A mere handful of my people have taken ill and passed on, but there is nothing to suggest we Minbari pose a biological threat to anyone. Before you turn yourselves over to passion and fear, I suggest you first consider these realities." She sat back down.

"Ambassador Kosh of the Vorlon Empire has declined the opportunity to attend this session. Shall we now take a vote?" Sinclair asked reluctantly.

"The Narn Regime votes for the quarantine!"  
"The Centauri Empire votes yes for quarantine."  
"The Minbari Federation votes no." Ambassador Kalika of the League stood up.

"Speaking for the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, we vote no." Sinclair was stunned by their decision and horrified by what he was going to be forced to say. He'd swayed them and now he was going to cast an opposing vote.

"Two votes for, two against, one abstention," Mollari observed. "And how, Commander Sinclair, does Earth cast its deciding vote?"  
"I have been instructed by my government," he said quietly, "to vote yes." The room exploded with shocked voices. Sinclair banged the gavel. "The quarantine will be put into effect immediately. This Council is adjourned." As the others filed out he dropped his head into his hand in shame. Delenn touched his arm.

"It is what it is," she observed quietly. "I must go and give my people the order to surrender to the quarantine."

As soon as Delenn said the word "surrender," Sinclair was gone, lost in another flashback. He stood in his damaged Starfury, the power plant somehow no longer about to explode, a massive debris field around him with the moon and Earth to his back, his radio silent. Suddenly it crackled to life:

"Alpha Leader, do you read us? This is acting Captain Ford of the Cassandra, repeat, this is Captain Ford of the Cassandra."

"What ..."  
"Where the hell have you been, Alpha Leader? We thought you were killed; your ship was off our screens for a day and now you're here? Do you read, Alpha Leader?"  
"What, what happened? Where are the enemy targets? What about Earth ..."

"Where _have_ you been, Alpha Leader? The Minbari have surrendered."  
"Surrendered? What?"  
"Affirmative, Alpha Leader. They saw the strength of our defense and issued an unconditional surrender order. We're heroes, Alpha Leader. We've saved Earth." Increasingly confused, but relieved beyond all measure, tears began to fill Sinclair's eyes and popped out as perfect round balls that floated around inside his helmet. Heroes? He thought to himself, but we were outnumbered and outgunned. Surrendered? Why?

"Can you maneuver, Alpha Leader?" Sinclair checked his gauges through the spheres of his copious tears. It was the first time he'd cried since he was in the ninth grade and his father had died.

"Negative, Cassandra. All engines are disabled."  
"Hang tight, Alpha Leader. We'll send a bot out to grapple hold and tow you in."

Surrendered? he thought again before returning to awareness of his presence in the empty Council chamber. At last he toggled on his link.

"Sinclair to Garibaldi."  
"Garibaldi here."

"Get your team out there en masse, Chief. We must enforce the quarantine."  
"The League voted yes?" Garibaldi innocently exclaimed. "Well I'll be damned. Sorry, Jeff; we'll do as ordered."

XXX

That night, Sinclair slid open the doors to his bedroom as quietly as he could, then began undressing in the dark. He slipped into bed beside Sakai, who slept on her side, and lay an arm over her, his hand curling around one breast. He sighed and tried to stop thinking about the events of the last few days. The problem was that the thoughts those preoccupations masked were of the War, so by squelching them, he returned to that old topic.

He got out of bed and rummaged quietly though the top drawer of his dresser until by feel he located the box with his medal from The Battle of The Line. He sat down on the foot of the bed and opened it, running his fingers across it in the dark and reading its face like braille. "In gratitude and memory" it said, the obverse plain except for the engraving of his name and rank at the time. Some men and women, he supposed, kept theirs out in the open, in a place of honor on their desks or their shelves. His stayed stuffed away under socks and underwear, hidden except on those rare occasions like now when he felt compelled to pull it out; something he only did when he was alone. Sakai had recently asked him why he never wore his ribbons from that part of his service on his dress uniform and he'd ascribed it to not wanting to rub it in the Minbari's faces, a fine and believable lie.

In truth, he was ashamed of his part, the part where his friends died doing something brave and noble and he lived on. But there was more to it than just that. After years of anger, he had finally made some sort of peace with himself and with the Minbari; he'd spent many hours in companionable silence with his once-mortal enemy in the Zen garden. But seeing Cherry again, in her unwavering devotion to Bill Mitchell, her refusal to leave him behind in the past, made him wonder if he'd sold out the sacred memory of his friends. Because while he could well remember the moment he and Bill hugged each other goodbye a final time, lingering chest to chest for longer than men usually did because they knew it would be the final time, he tried not to do so very often. It stirred him up, reawakened his fury and made it hard to function in his job. How had Cherry managed to do both; to stay Bill's fiancee and not be consumed by hatred? If he asked her what the secret was, would she be able to tell him?

God, he was tired, so very, very tired. He stood up, closed the box and hid it again at the bottom of the drawer, then retreated to bed.

XXX

Garibaldi was first to arrive in Sinclair's office the next day.

"Good morning, Commander," he sang.

"You're in a good mood; I take it the date went well?"

"It did. We're getting together again tonight. She's a lot of fun."  
"Glad to hear it," Sinclair smiled. "Ah, welcome, Lt. Commander."

"I saw Franklin and Ambassador Delenn in the hall," Ivanova said, "they should be here shortly." Once they were seated, the meeting began.

"Enforcement of the quarantine went off without a hitch," Garibaldi said. "Ask the Narn, or for that matter, us Humans to go lock ourselves up in our quarters indefinitely and you'd have some serious unrest to deal with. I appreciate your people's cooperation, Ambassador."

"But of course. There was never any question of them doing otherwise. I have received information from Minbar," she said, handing Franklin a data crystal. "This represents the research of our physicians back home. It reflects their conclusion that no such disease or condition has ever been recorded on Minbar, and their belief that no such new disease exists."

"Yes, I've been thinking that myself; a pathogen would leave a trace. This is no illness. What we're looking at is mass murder, by a serial killer or killers," said Franklin.

"In which case isolating the Minbari in their quarters might be the best step we can take to protect them," Sinclair observed. "I'm assigning around-the-clock security for you and Mr. Lennier," he said to Delenn. "Since you two are the only Minbari walking around freely, you may be at great risk."

"That is unnecessary, Commander. We are fully capable of protecting ourselves."  
"I'm afraid I have to insist, Ambassador. You may be willing to take the risk, but I'm not."

"So if it's not a disease, what are the means being used by the killer?" asked Ivanova.

"Unknown," said Franklin. "Something that acts as a poison and then dissipates almost immediately. It could be it's being injected or eaten or inhaled."

"What should we be looking for?"  
"I wish I could tell you, Commander. The most notable fact is that I can't detect anything out of order; there are no physiological clues as to why the tissues are joining together, and there are no toxins showing up on our reports. Perhaps it's an excess of a natural substance of some kind, but by the time we do the autopsy the levels are normal."

"So it's invisible?" asked Garibaldi.

"Effectively."

"How am I supposed to find an invisible poison?"

"I don't know, Mr. Garibaldi; you're the detective," Franklin said with a shrug.

"Alright, I got a couple of places to make inquiries. I'll start looking into it."

"That'll be all," Sinclair said, dismissing his staff. Delenn bowed and took her leave as well.

XXX

"I'm not accusing you of doing anything," Garibaldi shouted through his oxygen mask, "I'm just asking if you've ever heard of something that kills undetectably." The insectoid beside him waved his front legs in the air.

"I know nothing about killing," N'Grath hissed. "Just a businessman. Take your suspicions elsewhere."  
"You are elsewhere. We both know you've got your finger, or whatever it is, on the pulse of what goes on around here … if you could tell me about anything I'll make it worth your while ..."  
"Oh no, mister security man, I take no bribes. Honest businessman. Know nothing. Leave me." Garibaldi glanced around at the mist and decided that N'Grath wasn't going to tell him anything even if he knew it.

"Okay, okay, but if you hear anything ..." N'Grath just stared at him with his enormous compound eyes and there was nothing Garibaldi could do but depart.

XXX

"Look, Londo, we both know that assassination has a long history on Centauri Prime ..."

"Yes, yes, most long and storied, out of my way, please," Mollari said, nudging Garibaldi aside as he readied himself to throw a pair of dice. "Pah! See what you've done? You are bad luck, very bad luck. I'm out," he addressed the croupier in dismay. He picked his drink up from the edge of the game table and turned to Garibaldi. "Some say the third Emperor killed all five of his brothers by poison to secure his seat on the throne. But what is it to you, Mr. Garibaldi?"  
"I just wondered what you might know about poisons; the undetectable kind?"  
"Surely, Mr. Garibaldi, my good, dear friend, you are not suggesting that I have anything to do with the strange and mysterious die-off of Minbari aboard this Station? And it is a disease, no?"

"We're exploring all the possibilities."  
"Well what is it they are dying of?"  
"Some kind of substance that binds proteins in the body together in inconvenient places."  
"But is undetectable? No. Death by the heart, death by the liver, these are untraceable things I have heard about. Some almost painless as well as unnoticeable. But I know nothing about anything that doesn't leave a trace by binding proteins, whatever that means."

"You're sure? A toxic plant, maybe?"  
"No, no, nothing. Have you asked Delenn these questions? Surely she would know better what kills her people than I."

"The Minbari claim not to kill each other."  
"And you believe this fairy tale?"  
"No, but it does dry the Minbari up as a source of information on the topic."  
"Well, I don't know what to tell you, my good friend. But if it's a poison, it's not one of ours." He drained his glass and signaled to a waitress for a refill.

"And if you knew of one, Londo, would you tell me?"  
"But of course, Mr. Garibaldi. I have nothing against the Minbari personally; they are not much fun at a party, but then that leaves more Brevari for me, you see? Have you considered those dreadful Narn? They're mercenaries, masters of deception. I wouldn't put it past them to have such a devious substance." Garibaldi scratched his head.

"I guess I know where I'm making my next stop," he said.

XXX

"Ambassador G'Kar, a moment of your time if you please," Garibaldi asked him, catching up with the Narn as he was about to enter his quarters. G'Kar looked at him over the shoulder.

"Yes, Mr. Garibaldi? Please make it quick. I am expecting a visitor." Garibaldi followed him into his dimly lit quarters.

"The Narn are well known for your active trading throughout the galaxy, along with, shall we say, your resourcefulness? Well I was just wondering if in any of your travels you've come across any substances that can be deadly without leaving a signature behind?"  
"Are you asking me about poisons, Mr. Garibaldi?"  
"Not to put too fine a point on it, yeah. Something that binds a victim's insides together."  
"Now why ever would you suppose I would know of such a thing, Mr. Garibaldi?"  
"As I said, you Narn explore a lot, trade a lot. Have more than a few grievances with certain other people. You might have investigated those kinds of things. Purely in self-defense of course."  
"Mmm, of course. But what makes you think if I knew of anything of that kind, which I don't, I would share that information with you?"  
"I dunno, interplanetary good will, wanting to get on the Commander's good side? Let's stop dancing around, G'Kar, we both know something is killing Minbari on this Station."

"Yes, a disease, is it not?"  
"I'm thinking no. Now unless you've got a beef going with the Minbari ..."  
"I have no particular love for the people of Minbar, Mr. Garibaldi, but neither do I wish them any harm. And I resent any implication that ..."

"No, no, not you, someone else. But maybe you know how they're doing it?"  
"No, I know nothing of Minbari physiology, nor do I know of any such poisons. But let me assure you that if I did, I would not be using it against the people who live in Sector 47." His door chimed. "Ah ha, you see my guest has arrived. I have no more time or information to share with you. Come!" he sang out as he hurried Garibaldi to the door. As it opened, a pair of scantily clad Human women came in, glancing sidelong at Garibaldi as he stared back at them. "Good day, Mr. Garibaldi," G'Kar concluded musically as he ushered the women inside. Garibaldi made a face at the closed door.

"Three down, one to go."

XXX 

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Ambassador Kosh," Garibaldi said, breathing in deeply from his mask, "but someone or something is killing Minbari on this Station and I wondered if you might know ..." The Vorlon's encounter suit glittered and sang.

"Yes."

"You know who's doing it? Or how?"  
"Yes."

"Great! Who is ..." More discordant notes were emitted by the suit.

"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction," Kosh intoned mysteriously.

"What? What is that supposed to mean? Who ..." The suit made a deep breathing sound and then went dark. Garibaldi waited a moment but it was clear his audience was over.

XXX

Not much later, Sinclair and Garibaldi stood over a body, this one in a mechanical room in an authorized personnel only area.

"We don't know when this one died for sure; sometime between six o'clock two days ago, before the quarantine, when she came back from her break and now. The morning and evening shifts never bothered to come in here; I checked. It wasn't until this afternoon's shift came on that we found her," explained Lou Welsh.

"Our first female victim," Sinclair observed, "I wonder if that means anything?" He looked around at the room full of boxes and equipment. "Once again, no sign of a fight."

"And no visible wound; at least that we can tell with her clothes on."

"If they were being injected with something like Franklin proposed, wouldn't there be a hole in her clothing?"  
"Not necessarily; maybe someone got her on the neck. Or if they did it intradermally, there wouldn't even be an entry wound from a needle. Or maybe it's airborne." The two looked at each other a little nervously.

"Just what I needed to hear," Sinclair complained. "We're grasping at straws."

"I know it Jeff, but it's like someone's found the perfect weapon."

"This is a secure area; anything on the cameras?"  
"We've got a lot of footage to run through and check. But since we don't know what the substance is or how it's delivered, we don't know how long it takes between the time the victim came in contact with it and when she died. It could be it happened anyplace – the hallway, the Zocalo, and then she just happened to die on the job in here."

"Did you do that follow-up I asked for on Aziz?"  
"Yeah, nothing came up. He was in the army on Io like he told you, no criminal record. Looks like he's just a guy with a big angry mouth."

"Damn it, Michael, there's got to be some clue we're missing."

"They've all been Religious or Worker Caste; that could mean something."  
"Only that the Warrior Caste rarely comes here. They tend to think like our friend Aziz that our two races should stay far apart from each other."

"True. I'll let you know if we come up with anything on the vid, but ..." he shrugged. Sinclair grimaced back. "Sooner or later they've got to slip up."

XXX

"This is excellent, Michael," Cherry said as they ate the homemade pizza he'd baked for them. "I love your crust."

"Thanks," Garibaldi said, wiping his mouth and realizing too late that making something garlicky might not have been the smartest idea.

"The sauce yours too?"  
"But of course," he smiled. "So I'm still wondering why, Cherry; I mean, you're gorgeous. I can't be the first guy in ten years to ask you out."

"Thanks," she said, acknowledging the compliment. "You're not."

"So why me; why now?"  
"Well no one else came vetted by you-know-who for one thing. It sure worked out the last time he asked me to go out on a date. And I like you a lot. I've been thinking about something Catherine said to me, that Bill wouldn't want me to be alone, and maybe she's right. Maybe it's time to take a step forward. But I don't know if I'm ready for anything serious yet. Can we just take it one day at a time and see where it goes?"  
"I'm all about one day at a time," Garibaldi assured her as he finished his last slice. "I don't know if I'm ready for a real relationship either. The last one really burned me."

"Sorry to hear that. What happened?"  
"The short version is that she didn't want me to take this job. So when I told Jeff yes, she said goodbye."

"I would have followed Bill anywhere."

"Yeah, but that's not Lise." There was an awkward silence that needed filling. "You want to watch a vid?"  
"How about some music? I like antique stuff from the Twentieth Century; ever heard any of it?"  
"You mean like The Who and The Clash and Rise Against? You're the first person I've met who's into antique music. Jeff tolerates it, but it's historic books he's more interested in."  
"Still? Does he still lug around that old paper copy of 'The Odyssey' with him?"  
"We're doing it again," Garibaldi realized. "We've got to find something else in common to talk about."  
"Well, we both like the same music, we both like cooking, that's a start. What in the universe is this?" she asked, walking over to examine the disassembled motorcycle in the corner of the room.

"It's a little project I have going. It's a motorcycle. Or it will be if I ever learn to read Japanese."

"Why not get the computer to translate for you?"  
"That would be like cheating," he said as he cleared the table. "It's something I've been working on for a while; I don't want it to be too easy." She looked at him oddly and laughed.

"It's some kind of transportation device?"  
"Yeah, it's street transportation, also from the Twentieth Century. It all goes with these cartoons I'm really into."

"You are definitely way into history; no wonder you and Jeff get along so well."  
"Uhn unh," he warned. "Not going there." Cherry giggled.

"Maybe then," she said, coming up behind him where he stood at the kitchen counter, "we shouldn't talk." He turned around and she kissed him. They kept at it, stumbling over to the couch until Garibaldi involuntarily started to think of Sinclair and Sakai going at it on theirs.

"Not here," he mumbled, and pulled her into the bedroom.

"What's wrong … with your couch?" she asked between kisses as he pushed her down gently against the bed.

"I don't want to talk about it," he admonished.

XXX

"Good morning, Lt. Commander Ivanova," Garibaldi said brightly upon walking into Command and Control. She turned around, her braid bobbing.

"You know how I feel about mornings, Mr. Garibaldi. And what has you so disturbingly cheerful today?"  
"Oh, nothing, nothing. With the quarantine in place the Zocalo is nearly empty and crime is down to nothing."

"Yes, and there have been an unusual number of unscheduled departures. Even with the quarantine, people remain frightened."

"Is the Commander around? I have some bad news to tell him about the murder investigation."

"Last I heard he was taking his Starfury out for a routine patrol in order to keep his flight hours up. What is it you have to report?"  
"The test results are in on the knife that guy Jackson used; the one who thinks the Minbari are the devil? Turns out it doesn't match the wounds on the two murder victims after all. So as far as we know, the actual killer is still out there."  
"Unless she or he has taken off on one of those many departing ships."  
"Exactly."

"That is most unfortunate news. I will relay it to the Commander when he returns from his patrol."

"Don't worry about it; I'll catch up with him and let him know myself. How long ago did he leave?"

"Approximately two hours and forty-three minutes ago. He should be back soon."

"Two hours and forty-three minutes, huh? Way to be approximate." Ivanova gave him a sharp look. "Alright, alright, I'll get out of your hair." He gave her a mock salute and left C and C.

XXX

Flying his Starfury, Sinclair was unabashedly happy. With so much going on at the Station, he needed to get away and clear his head. Fortunately, he had the authority to make that happen. He took Delta Squad out to inspect the jumpgate, but of course that was just a pretext; one that none of the other pilots would care to question as they all shared his enthusiasm for flight. They couldn't remain near the gate for long as it was exceptionally busy with outgoing traffic, so they flew back and circumnavigated Epsilon III a few times. In turn they practiced various complicated maneuvers, each trying to top one another, and it reminded Sinclair of his early days in Earth Force when every flight was an excuse to compete with other pilots. Back then, no one thought they'd one day be using those skills in a life or death conflict; everything was just an exercise, whether it was demonstrating their piloting skills or shooting down mock targets. And then the Prometheus made first contact with the Minbari. Every officer in Earth Force asked themselves the question sooner or later; would they have reacted offensively when presented with the Valen'tha's open gun-ports? Like most, Sinclair liked to think he wouldn't have. But then Neroon arrived with the Ingata and even with the knowledge in the back of his head that it was a sign of respect, he'd fired up the Defense Grid.

As these thoughts occurred to him in his cockpit, he knew the time for fun and games had passed. There was a crisis with the Minbari taking place then and there and he needed to continue to work on solving it. He ordered Delta Squadron back to Babylon 5.

Garibaldi met him as he was changing in the pilots' ready room.

"Have fun, Commander?" Sinclair looked up from where he was lacing up his shoes.

"That's a question I should be asking you," he answered with a glimmer in his eye.

"Yeah, we did. For a while it was kind of awkward; she kept talking about someone else, but we had some good laughs over it and things became a little more … close."

"Ah," Sinclair said knowingly, "Look who's bashful now?"  
"Alright, I deserve that. But we didn't get intimate enough to leave undergarments around like you guys do. We're supposed to get together yet again tonight. Last night I made us pizza, tonight she was going to make something, but I told her I'd take her out because she's cooking for the Minbari all day. But onto other news ..."

"Don't tell me we have another death on our hands?"

"No, not that bad, exactly. But results on the knife in the Zocalo stabbing are in and it turns out that Book of Revelations guy is not our killer."  
"Damn. I thought we at least had that mystery solved. Follow me to my office? Franklin should be waiting for me there."

"Okay. Look, I've been thinking," he said as they got into the tube, "what if all of this is the work of one person?" Sinclair lifted his eyebrows in curiosity. "It started out with those two mutilation killings, but there haven't been any similar crimes committed since the Minbari started dying more strangely. What if the killer found an easier method? Or maybe the first two deaths were meant to make an especially loud statement?"

"I'm not sure I'm following you."  
"We don't know the motive, but let's pretend it's the most obvious. Someone hates Minbari. Maybe the first two killings are intended as payback for something specific and the more subtle killings are just because?"

"I suppose that's possible, Chief, but it seems like a big leap to make from the evidence at hand. Good, Doctor; hope I didn't keep you waiting long," he said as they entered his office. "Garibaldi and I have been talking about the murders, wondering if maybe there's only one killer. If we assume that, we suspect we know motive, but have no proof for it. That covers the who and takes us to what. What do the victims all have in common?"

"Well," began Franklin, "they've all been in otherwise good health, they're all Minbari; one assumes they all go to Minbari-friendly places, eat Minbari food ..."

"Food. Now there's a thought," Garibaldi ventured. "When I was investigating where and what they'd been doing prior to their deaths, they'd all eaten out somewhere."

"And except for the two fatal stabbings, the deaths do appear to be happening after meal times, not in the middle of the night." Sinclair remarked. "Have your teams search all the restaurants, with an emphasis on the three most popular with Minbari."

"What are we looking for?"  
"Anything that doesn't belong in a commercial kitchen. If you're not sure about something, take a sample. Stephen can then perform an analysis and determine if a given ingredient or a combination of them could be responsible. Make sure to check cleaning products as well."

"It's a place to start. I'll get on it."

"Thanks. Doctor, if you come up with anything for us …"

"I'll let you know," he assured them before leaving the room.

"So are you going to start on the restaurants now?"  
"Yeah, I'll hit Sector 47. I'll have Jack go over Flarnlandia, and give Lou McBari's."

"I'm sure that's a random assignment," Sinclair said slyly. "Say 'hi' to Cherry for me."

"Will do."

XXX

"Michael! You here for a late lunch?" Cherry called out from the kitchen as Garibaldi approached the counter in Sector 47.

"I'm afraid it's business. You running this place alone now?"

"No, with the owner Lenar under quarantine, his other non-Minbari employee Dreximi is out making deliveries to Minbari customers while I run the kitchen. So what brings you here?"  
"I need to inspect your kitchen."

"There's an 'A' rating from the board of health in the window."  
"It's part of an investigation," Garibaldi said vaguely. "That's all I can say at this time." He walked into the kitchen and started looking around, opening freezer doors and checking inside the refrigerator. He moved containers around looking for anything hidden. Seeing only produce, he turned to the shelves over the stove. "What's this?" he asked, opening a jar.

"Yl'fost," Cherry giggled, "it's a sweetener. This is so silly; there's nothing dangerous hiding in here."

"And this?"  
"Slenn; an herb." He turned his attention to a series of white bags labeled in English.

"What's lactisole, lipase and this one, transglut-something?"

"Transglutaminase. A sugar suppressant, a fat catalyzing enzyme and a yogurt thickener."

"Why are you using all these complicated chemicals?"  
"Even the simplest of Minbari foods are complex to prepare. Some of them are created through molecular gastronomy."

"Through what?"  
"It's a style of cooking that uses science to manipulate food in unusual ways. The Minbari employ some of those techniques and I've brought a few I know into the kitchen as well."

"Hmm. When I cook it involves food. You know, tomatoes, butter, mushrooms, stuff like that. Never 'sodium alginate.' Can you package up some samples of all these chemicals for me? Those first four and this," he picked up another package, "hydroxypropyl methycellulose. Bet that tastes delicious."

"Sure thing." Cherry reached into a box for a fresh pair of gloves and to another for a face mask. "You don't necessarily want to breathe these things in, unless you like sneezing fits," she explained matter-of-factly. With practiced efficiency, she opened each container and wrapped up some samples for him.

"Thanks," he said, taking them from her. "So we still on tonight at twenty hundred hours?"

"Sure," she smiled back.

"Okay, I'll come pick you up from your place. Oh, and not to get you all excited, but Jeff says 'hi,'" he winked, and Cherry tittered.

XXX

Standing in a wheat field, where a small combine sat idle, Sinclair and Garibaldi awaited Franklin's arrival at another crime scene.

"So I've checked with all the major players; Londo, G'Kar, Kosh. I even checked with N'Grath, but everyone has the same reply; either they don't know of a poison like the one we're investigating or they won't tell me. Oh, except for Kosh. He says Newton's Third Law is responsible, whatever that means. Hi, Doc."

"I've never been in the agricultural sector before," Franklin said while kneeling beside the body of a Worker Caste Minbari.

"Me either," said Garibaldi, looking around at the tall blonde plants that surrounded them. "He was just found when they came through to harvest."  
"How long has he been here?" asked Sinclair.

"Quite some time," Franklin answered, returning his attention to the corpse. "As long as three or four days, I believe."

"That makes sense; it would have to have been before the quarantine." Garibaldi observed. "What a strange place to die."

"This makes it nine dead," Sinclair observed sadly. "Any results on the restaurant samples, Doctor?" He folded his arms across his chest.

"Not so far; I had just started some tests to see if they are what they're labeled as without contamination when Garibaldi called me here. I've glanced at what he's provided so far. Some of it's strange stuff; makes you wonder what you're really eating. Once those tests are complete I'll research if they all have food applications and if any of them are dangerous in combination. But that'll have to wait until after the autopsy."

"Very good then," Sinclair said. "That leaves one duty ..."

"To tell Delenn there's been another death? I'm on it, Commander." Garibaldi assured him. Sinclair nodded and looked around again at the field they stood in and the others rotating distantly over their heads. It made him feel very small and insignificant, like …

He was in a blackened room, nine shafts of light descending from an invisible ceiling to the floor. Nine imposing, robed figures surrounded him. He was bleeding in several places and he ached all over from blows he could barely recall as they all blended in together after a while. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want? What do you ..."

"Commander? Commander? Jeff?"  
"What do you want?" Sinclair snapped out loud. Garibaldi was startled by the angry question. Sinclair shook his head and he was back in the wheat field, Garibaldi holding him by his upper arm while Franklin and some medics packaged the latest victim for removal.

"Commander, are you alright?" Slowly, he nodded.

"It just makes you realize how vulnerable we all are, doesn't it, Chief?" Not sure what Sinclair was talking about but glad he was talking in a normal tone of voice, Garibaldi nodded and let go of his arm.

"Sure. I guess. I'll go back now and tell Delenn." Sinclair looked over at him slowly.

"No, no; you go on with Franklin, see what there is to learn from the body. I'll tell Delenn."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes."

XXX

"I brought some donuts," Sinclair told Delenn, handing her the white box he held up by its strings. Delenn bowed her head briefly and smiled.

"Thank you, Commander, that is most thoughtful of you." Sinclair glanced around the room and his eyes settled on the strange, colorful sculpture sitting on an end table. It seemed much larger and more elaborate than it had been when he was in the room for the Valen's Day celebration. "Please, how do you phrase it in English? Make yourself comfortable?" she invited as she began to prepare a pot of tea. "I trust all my people have continued to cooperate with your quarantine?" she asked as he folded up his legs underneath himself and sat down on the cushion by her low dining table.

"Yes. Yes they have. I apologize again that I had to ..."

"We all have our orders, Commander," she said setting down a pair of cups. "I understand." Next she came back with the teapot and donuts. "Now what brings you here this evening?"  
"How about tea and donuts first?" he counter-offered. Delenn nodded once and selected a donut.

"This one does not have a hole," she observed, "last time they all had holes."  
"You'll see why when you bite into it. It's jelly filled," he informed her as he picked up a pastry for himself. "I imagine you and Mr. Lennier have been quite busy."  
"Yes. We have been going from room to room checking in on our people. One does not realize how vast this Station is until you begin to walk it, one step at a time."

"You're right. I've started out numerous times since we've been online intending to walk all five miles from one end to the other, but I never make it even halfway before I'm interrupted by business."

"Oh!" she exclaimed as she took her first bite of the donut. "How delightful! The other donuts were unfamiliar but there is a similar confection to this on Minbar called cla'la. Valen is said to have enjoyed them with tim'fa filling."

"And tim'fa juice reminds me of wine without the alcohol. Our tastes are not dissimilar. They fell silent, eating and drinking. Finishing his second cup of tea, Sinclair sighed.

"Delenn … the reason I'm here …"

"Has there been another death?" He closed his eyes and nodded. "In Valen's Name, nine souls have returned to the well and we as yet do not know the reason?"

"We're checking now to make sure there are no poisons hidden in any of the kitchens. But I'm not hopeful; no Human or Centauri have died from eating in the same places. This is a huge mystery. Frankly, we're running out of ideas. You're sure the victims didn't know one another?"  
"They may all have known Dreval, but there are no other connections."

"Then maybe Garibaldi is right … and it's all about the War." Delenn avoided his gaze.

"We are allies today," Delenn stated and it was Sinclair's turn to cast his eyes downward. "You believe this, do you not, Commander?"

"Yes. But for many, memories are still fresh," he admitted honestly. It was the most openly the two had ever talked before.

"And you Commander? What do you remember?" Sinclair was abruptly set on guard as Delenn studied his face attentively. He no more trusted her with the answer to that question than he did the last time she asked it, after he'd been kidnapped. He put on his familiar stoic mask.

"Nothing but death," he claimed carefully. "Nothing else."

"That is the essential truth of all wars. And why we must work together to avoid any more." Sinclair met her eyes and nodded.

"We'll solve this, Delenn, I promise you."  
"I have faith in you, Commander." Sinclair bobbed his head and rose to his feet. Wordlessly, she too stood up and followed him to the door.

XXX

Sinclair was slouched in his leather chair, a nearly-empty glass of bourbon in one hand while he sat in the dimly lit living room. Why was it that when he most wanted her company, Sakai was away on business? He found himself unable to squelch the unwanted memories that kept coming to mind. If she was there, they could talk about them, or better, about something else entirely, or best of all, do some communicating with their bodies. The things she did to him … he entertained some enticing sexual memories for a while, but the intrusive images spliced themselves in and instead of watching Sakai disrobing, he was uncovering Delenn's face at The Line, fixated on the strange silver triangle on her brow until an excruciating electric shock struck him between the shoulder blades and sent him collapsing to the ground. What did it mean? Why was she there? Why did she keep fishing to find out if he remembered her being there? What else was it that he couldn't recall? Why had they surrendered?

He couldn't deny that on some level, he enjoyed the game with her; that was why he kept going back for more, but he was never able to figure out the next move that would convince or compel her to explain it all. She had this weird hold over him that he didn't understand. He should hate her, knowing as he did now that she was there while they tortured him; for all he knew, she was the one doing it, disguised in those grey robes. But he didn't. He was wary of her, but there was no hatred, only a burning curiosity.

He took another sip of his drink and returned his attention to the small computer notebook he held in his other hand. He picked up where he had left off, with a list of every staff member who had fought in the War, and continued comparing each of their duty rosters against the approximate times of the first two murders. It was a monumental task, but at least it let him feel like he was doing something constructive about the case. If their assumption was correct and it was one person responsible for all the deaths, it had to be someone living aboard the Station, and anger with them was the likeliest motive. He set his glass down on the floor and rubbed his eyes and began to wonder how Senai and Garibaldi's second date was going. He'd been surprised when she'd agreed to go out with him, given how wedded to Mitchell she still was. But it could only be a good thing for the both of them, however it turned out. Abruptly, he boomeranged into another flashback.

"No greater sacrifice has ever been asked of a people," the President was saying on the large screen above the hanger floor, and he stood right next to Mitchell, their arms casually draped across each other's shoulders like they were one unit, one man in two bodies, and they had known long before the address had even begun that they were going, that they would die willingly and together. "One last battle to hold the line against the night. May God go with you all," she concluded and there was defeat in her voice that neither man felt in their hearts. Sinclair turned his head to the right.

"You ready?" he asked, but it was really a statement.

"Let's do this thing," Mitchell replied with a smile, and they turned to hug each other goodbye, a good, long, squeeze because it was the last time they'd ever feel the warmth of Human flesh. There was a little unspoken competition there too, a little bit of who can better crush the breath out of the other, because that's what they did, compete, always trying to one up each other, even though Sinclair was the leader and Mitchell the wingman and it was clear who was on top. And when they broke apart, they rounded up the rest of the squadron and headed for the last time to the Cobra bay.

When he returned to his living room, Sinclair could still smell the scent of Bill's cologne in the air and he sighed heavily. Damn, he wished Sakai was home. He barely glanced at the computer notepad, just long enough to see that it was two o'clock, and decided to call it a night. He'd probably be up in three hours anyway, screaming.

XXX

"You look how I feel," Ivanova said as she dropped her tray on the mess hall table across from Sinclair.

"That bad, huh?" he asked wearily. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"The murders?"  
"The Line. How are you coping, Lt. Commander?" She debated for a moment if she wanted to answer him.

"The Line does not bother me. My brother died earlier in the War."  
"I see," he said gravely. "How old were you then, Ivanova?"  
"Seventeen. Ganya was a fighter pilot like you. He flew out of the EAS Lexington." Sinclair nodded.

"They were the only ship to have a victory."

"Yes, but he was gone before that. Caught in an ambush." Breaking the mood was Garibaldi, who bounded over to join them.

"Morning, boys and girls. You look like hell," he said to Sinclair.

"Thanks."

"I thought you loved mornings."  
"I love mornings that follow a solid night of sleep."  
"Ah. The murders?"  
"The Line."  
"Is Catherine back yet?"  
"Later today," he answered, stifling a yawn. "So how did your night go?" Garibaldi grinned.

"Well not to brag or anything, but fan-tastic. Cover your ears, Ivanova. It involved my first _and_ second favorite things in the universe." Sinclair raised his brows.

"Do I even want to ask?"  
"Watching Duck Dodgers cartoons."

"You … and then you made her watch cartoons after?" Sinclair asked, disbelieving.

"We're both into history, so why not?" Ivanova and Sinclair exchanged glances.

"Garibaldi, children's programs are not history."  
"Well, she liked them and that's what counts."  
"You're a strange man, Mr. Garibaldi," Ivanova told him.

"You really are," agreed Sinclair.

"Why, what's your second favorite thing in the universe?"  
"Same as the first," Sinclair said straight-faced.

"Alright, what's the third?"  
"Flying,"

"I guess I can't argue with that list."  
"No," Sinclair smirked at him.

"Is this the Commander's friend you're talking about?"  
"Yeah, Cherry."  
"I thought she doesn't date."  
"Neither do I. It's complicated."

"I'm glad for the both of you it's going well," Sinclair said seriously. "Even if I now doubt both of your sanities. I'll see you later." He stood up and headed for his office.

XXX

Between his regular duties, Sinclair kept up the document search, looking for an imagined veteran who could have committed mass murder. And then, sometime after thirteen hundred, the inevitable call from Garibaldi; Lennier had found another Minbari male dead in his room, no signs of a struggle, any food he'd eaten already cleared away; if food were even the mechanism of death. But it narrowed down the subjects of his search, and he and Garibaldi had a new and unpleasant task; summoning the two of their fellow Earth Force officers who came up in Sinclair's research, both veterans of the War, to Sinclair's office for interrogation.

"Lieutenant Marsh, this is not a formal inquiry and you have every right to request an attorney be appointed to represent you during this questioning. Keeping that in mind, would you like to tell the Commander and I where you were this morning between the hours of nine and thirteen hundred?

"May I ask why you ask, sirs?"  
"This is part of an on-going investigation," Garibaldi assured him. "You're just one of a number of people we're interviewing."

"I've got nothing to hide; I was in my quarters getting ready for the day, then I went to the mess hall, ate, and went to the pool. It's my day off-duty. I was there until you called me here." He looked nervously at Sinclair, whose face was a mask.

"Is there anyone who can confirm this?" Garibaldi queried.  
"Well, I guess the guys at the steam table and the lifeguard at the pool?"

"But no one who saw that you were in your quarters, is that right?"  
"Are you accusing me of fraternizing, sirs? Because I wasn't, I was alone."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Sinclair spoke up, "you're dismissed." He shook his head and turned to Garibaldi, who was sitting on the edge of Sinclair's desk. "I hate this, Michael, I hate it."

"It's ugly alright, but what choice do we have? Shall I call in Major Gardner?" Sinclair grimaced and nodded his head. The second interview went just like the first, leaving Garibaldi with a few claims to check and Sinclair with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His officers didn't deserve this suspicion, and he knew from experience they'd never forget it; that they'd always be wondering what it was about and what might have been noted in their records. But what else could he have done but follow up on the thinest of possibilities in this horrifying and mysterious series of crimes? 

Still somewhat disgusted with himself, he decided to go down to customs and greet Sakai as she returned to the Station. She was immediately suspicious; leaving work to meet her wasn't something Sinclair normally did.

"What's wrong, Jeff?" she asked as they left the visitor's lounge. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed a friendly face," he murmured plainly. "There've been more deaths. I had to get away from the office for a little while." He put his arm around her waist as they walked. Sakai studied his expression.

"You haven't been sleeping either, have you?"  
"No."

"Oh, Jeff. Have you given any thought to ..."  
"No." She shook her head with frustration, but said nothing. "Franklin's pretty much ruled out a disease," he explained as they stepped into the tube.

"Then they're all murders?"  
"Ten of them now."  
"Ten?" she repeated.

"We thought maybe it was something in the foods they like to eat, but Franklin said everything he tested was an unadulterated, legitimate ingredient. We have nothing to go on and they just keep dying. Lights," he said as they entered his quarters. He sat down, dejected, on the couch while she put her bag in the bedroom, then took off his jacket and folded it up next to him. "I don't even know what to say to Delenn anymore." Sakai squeezed onto the couch between him and the sofa arm and started kneading his broad shoulders through his shirt. He groaned in relief. "Cath? What if I've finally come up against something too big for me?"  
"You don't believe that, do you?" He turned his neck and peered back at her.

"I'm starting to think about it." She dug in deeper on him.

"There's no such thing as the perfect murder, let alone ten. It's got to be something, maybe something so obvious you can't see it."  
"Hmm," he grunted again. "Ohhh, on the left there … yeah. Thanks. You know what else is bothering me?"  
"What?"  
"It dawned on me this morning that the Station feels like it would if we'd never encountered the Minbari; like we're in a universe where none of it ever happened, none of them ever existed. And I can't say I dislike it this way."  
"Every Human on board is probably indulging in that feeling right now. My God, you are so tense … don't feel so guilty, however much we now get along with them, it's a nice fantasy, isn't it? No Minbar, no War, we wouldn't have changed so much ..."

"You mean me. I wouldn't have changed."

"Alright, maybe you did more, but I changed too. But sure, you wouldn't have become so angry and withdrawn, we wouldn't have had those epic battles, wouldn't have broken up, we would have kept living together, maybe gotten married with Bill as your best man. It would have been nice. Peaceful. But we can't go back and change things, only keep moving forward. How did you get this tense? I've only been gone two days."  
"I know. But they've been long ones."  
"Wanna go play in the bedroom? That'll relax you."

"I'd love to, but I have to get back to work." Reluctantly he stood up and reached for his jacket. "Hey, speaking of playing around, Cherry and Garibaldi have moved onto the next level with their relationship."

"They've already slept together? After she's been celibate for ten years?"  
"Yup. And let's just say they shared a particular kink that we do not."

"Is it something we should try?" she teased.

"No. Most definitely not."

XXX

"Their alibis check out; I even ran a check on their door codes and neither of them left their quarters any longer than a few minutes before they arrived at the mess hall." Garibaldi told Sinclair as they reconvened while walking the central corridor.

"I'm glad; I would hate for it to be one of ours. But where does that leave us?"  
"My team and I are going to have to go through all the customs records from the last fifteen or twenty days to see who came aboard and stayed and where they've been. We have to continue doing that with our long term residents as well."

"What if it's someone from Down Below?"

"We'd pretty much have to catch them in the act; everyone down there is basically impossible to track. It's all going to take us days even with the bulk of the department on the case." Sinclair shook his head from side to side and pressed his lips together.

"We may not have that kind of time to spare; someone is still getting to them somehow."

"I know, I know, today I'm also going to continue inspecting restaurants and bring Franklin samples until we've hit every place that's made even a single delivery to a Minbari since the quarantine began. I'm still betting it's something in the food; nothing else gets through to them except religious supplies, and how are you going to poison someone with a candle or incense? Hey! Watch out!" he exclaimed to a man handing out pamphlets to passers by who bumped into him. "What is this? Gimme one." Garibaldi quickly read it over while Sinclair watched. "Hoo boy, you're not going to like this; how's your blood pressure?"  
"What?" Sinclair demanded, pulling the brochure from Garibaldi's hands. "'The Station's Commander says we should forgive and forget, but we say remember, stand and fight against the Minbari and for Earth! Draw the Line at noon on …' What the ..." he growled, narrowing his dark eyes.

"Easy there, Jeff. I think this gives me the power to shut that rally down; 'stand and fight' sounds like incitement to riot to me."

"They'll argue to the Ombudsman that they meant it figuratively. Why does this have to be happening now, on my Station?" He was hot with pent-up frustration.

"Look, with all the investigations going on, my department's going to be spread awfully thin for routine patrols, let alone putting down some potential uprising. Isn't that enough for you to call it off?"

"The right to assemble and speak freely is fundamental to Earth's Constitution. As much as I hate it, I've got to err on the side in favor of that. It hurts to do it, though. So, you want to give me those customs records?"  
"What? And have you up all night with them? You've got enough aggravation without me handing you more."

"And you've got enough on your plate that you should take any help you can get."  
"Alright, but promise me when you're done with your shift you go home to Catherine and relax."  
"You have no idea how good that sounds."

"Now that I'm seeing Cherry I do," Garibaldi grinned.

"How's that working out? Is she really getting over Bill so quickly?"  
"I dunno that I'd call ten years quick."

"You'd be surprised how little that amount of time can feel in the face of grief." Garibaldi nodded.

"Yeah, I get it, but she seems really into me and I'm not going to argue with that. We're supposed to spend the night together again if I can manage to get away from work for a while."

"I never thought things would go so far between you."

"Really? I think I'm mildly insulted, Commander."

XXX

"Alright, enough of this already," Sakai declared to Sinclair, pulling the computer notepad out of his hands. "Get changed and let's go to dinner." Sinclair looked up at her from his chair indignantly.

"I'm not hungry; hand it back. I need to get through these reports."  
"No, I'm taking you out to dinner and then you're going to catch up on your sleep deficit and go to bed. How can you even see anything after staring at that all day long?"

"Catherine ..." he threatened. She folded her arms across her chest and just glared back at him.

"Forget it. We're going out. Get out of that uniform and we're going." Sinclair threw his hands in the air, opened his mouth to say something, then thought the better of it.

"Fine," he sighed, getting up and heading to the bedroom for fresh clothes.

They were only steps away from the Blue Marble restaurant when they were ambushed.

"Mary Ann Cramer with Interstellar News. I'm here with Commander Jeffrey Sinclair of Babylon 5. Commander, have you seen the recent literature circulating on the Station that accuses you of turning your back on Earth by opposing a rally to commemorate the ending of the Earth-Minbari War?"  
"No comment."  
"Is it true that you prefer to put alien agendas ahead of Earth's?"

"Look, I'm off-duty. If you'd like to conduct an interview please schedule one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to dinner." Cramer stuck the microphone in Sakai's face.

"Do you have a comment on the Commander's stand against marking this historically significant event?" Sakai looked at her balefully.

"No. Now get that thing out of my face or I'll bring stalking charges against you."

"Catherine ..." he muttered in an undertone, but secretly he was cheering her on. Sakai put herself bodily between Sinclair and Crammer, then followed him into the restaurant.

"There you have it, Commander Sinclair refuses to answer charges that he opposes veterans' efforts to ..." Cramer continued as they sought refuge.

"What in the universe was that about?" Sakai asked as they were seated. Sinclair rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I spoke with two of the organizers of this damn rally, trying to convince them to cancel or postpone it, but I wasn't successful. Apparently they've taken offense and reported it to the press." He threw his napkin down into his lap. "I'll take a whiskey, straight up," he told the waitress. Sakai waved her off.

"How did it get from that to you being anti-Earth and anti-veterans? You _are_ a veteran for goodness sake!"  
"I don't know, but I'm going to catch hell when that report gets back to Earth Dome." He closed his eyes and leaned his head into his hand. "Ten murders, now this. I must have seriously pissed off someone upstairs." Sakai rubbed his arm sympathetically.

"Were there any more deaths today?"  
"No, thank God." He dropped his menu on the table. "Will you order for me? I don't care what I eat tonight."

"Oh, Jeff." He took a big gulp of his drink. "Alright, we'll have two of the chicken specials," Sakai told their server.

"And another one of these," Sinclair followed up, setting his empty glass down. "Why don't you tell me about what you're working on?" he invited, so Sakai told him.

XXX

"These may be leftovers, Cherry, but they're great. I never expected I'd like Minbari food."  
"You've been here how long and you've never tried it?"  
"I told you, I see nothing wrong with Earth food; why risk eating some weird alien ingredients?"  
"I would have thought as Jeff's friend, you'd be more adventurous."

"I've got enough trouble in my life without going out to look for more."

"But you're Earth Force. Aren't all Earth Force people risk takers by nature?"  
"Not this one. My job is to keep everything as normal and boring as it can be." She chuckled.

"So you must hate your job these days with that disease going around."  
"It's not a disease," Garibaldi explained between bites, his usually tight-lipped manner loosening in the presence of his lover. "Dr. Franklin and the doctors on Minbar ruled that out."

"What does that mean? If they aren't getting sick, what's going on?"

"It's ten cases of murder."

"Murder?" she exclaimed. "Are you sure about that?"  
"Well there's no doubt in the case of the first two victims and since it doesn't seem to be a disease, there's no other logical conclusion."  
"But murder? Ten murders? Is there a gang or something involved?"

"We're assuming since they all died the same way, it's one killer."  
"How'd they die?" she asked curiously.

"Sorry, I can't tell you that, Cherry. I have to keep some details secret."  
"Even from me?"  
"Even from you. I'd keep them from myself if I could." He leaned over to kiss her. "I hope you understand."

"Sure. No problem. I just thought it might be helpful if you had someone to bounce ideas off of."  
"That's been one of Jeff's many jobs; poor bastard has a lot on his shoulders these days. For example, there's a group of Pro-Earthers trying to make out like he's a turncoat."  
"What? Jeff? He's a hero of The Line!"

"To you and me, sure. But to some people Babylon 5's a symbol of what they hate; better Human-alien relations, and he's in charge."  
"But Jeff? That's outrageous! I can't believe anyone would believe in him betraying Earth in any way! How's he taking it?"  
"About as well as you'd expect; it's burning him up inside but he has to play it cool."

"I just realize we've broken our rule; we're talking about him again." Garibaldi rubbed his nose against hers.

"Eh, I don't care anymore. Not now that I know I'm the one who really does it for you." He wiggled his eyebrows and Senai giggled. "So uh, I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, what is it?"  
"Would you be okay with me spending the night with you?"  
"You mean sleeping overnight here?"

"Yeah. Instead of just leaving afterwards." Senai shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know that I'm ready to do that yet. It's just such a vulnerable thing to do." Garibaldi tried to hide his disappointment.

"Okay, whatever. Just thought I'd ask."  
"You're not angry with me, are you?"  
"No, no, it's fine, really. Whatever you're comfortable with. Really," he assured her.

"Thanks, Michael."

"So did you bring dessert?" She reached over and put her hand on his thigh.  
"You're looking at it."

XXX

"Don't you even think about touching that computer," Sakai ordered Sinclair upon their return to his quarters. Sinclair smiled disarmingly.

"I'm not. I'm thinking that you made an offer earlier today, and I'd like to know if it still stands?" he asked slyly, pulling her by her hips against him.

"You're supposed to catch up on your sleep."

"I will," he promised, "after."  
"You're insatiable, you know that?"  
"So are you. Besides, you're my first two favorite things in the universe."

"That sounds suspiciously like something Garibaldi would say."

"If Garibaldi said making love with you were his two most favorite things, I'd have to space him, best friend or not. Come on," he said, pulling her towards the bedroom.

"What's wrong with right here on the couch?"  
"I don't want to talk about it."

XXX

"What can I do for you, Mr. Szypka?" Garibaldi asked the man who had just come into the Security office and introduced himself.

"My business partner, Ali Aziz, never showed up to open the shop this morning. I've tried calling him repeatedly, but there's been no answer. Now it's noon and there's still no sign of him."

"Maybe he decided to take the day off?"  
"No, we spoke yesterday when we were closing up and he said he'd see me in the morning. I'm afraid something has happened to him."  
"Well, normally we like to give these things twenty-four hours before we intervene, just to protect people's right to privacy and not overreact."  
"I am sure something is wrong. Mr. Aziz is a somewhat controversial figure, as I'm sure you know."

"Yeah, he's organized that protest coming up. You part of that too?"  
"No, we are only business partners. We don't discuss politics. But still, if you watched ISN this morning you know the controversy has heated up with the Station's Commander coming out in opposition to the rally." Garibaldi was surprised to hear ISN was reporting on the situation and how they'd skewed the facts; he was the one who wanted to cancel the rally outright. He looked the man over. He seemed genuinely concerned about Aziz.

"Alright, let's go check on him at his quarters. But if it turns out he's in there with some Androsian dancer, you're on you own." The pair walked in silence all the way to the residential neighborhood of the Station. Garibaldi rang the buzzer. "This is Security, Mr. Aziz," he called out, "is everything alright in there? Mr. Aziz?" He reached into his jacket for his Security pass, but it wasn't there. He checked his other pockets and twisted his mouth. "Damn, what did I do with it? You stay here; I've gotta go back and check my office for something. I'll be back." He retraced his steps to Security and started looking around. He opened a desk drawer and there it was. He was surprised as he hadn't left it there before, but there was no denying that's where it was. He shrugged, picked it up and returned to Aziz's door. Again he rang the buzzer and announced himself. Holding his arm out across the door to indicate to Szypka that he should remain behind, he put his pass into the lock and opened the door. "Lights," he called out as he entered with his hand on his gun, and looked around the small living room/kitchen combination. No one was there. "Mr. Aziz!" he called, tapping on the frosted doors to the bedroom. Getting no response, he opened them. There was someone under the covers on the bed. "Wake up, Mr. Aziz," he said, and then approached the bed. "Damn!"

"What is it?" asked Szypka, who had followed him in against Garibaldi's instructions.

"Get out of here and don't touch anything on your way out. Garibaldi to Med lab"

"Dr. Hernandez here."

"Doctor, I need either you or Franklin to come down to Red 12, Room 1002. There's been a fatality."

XXX

"Looks like he was killed in his sleep. His throat was cut clear across. But there's something else, too." Sinclair stood up from behind his station in Ops and came around to Garibaldi's side.

"What is it?"  
"His tongue was cut out. I've never seen such a bloody mess."

"Killed with a knife and then mutilated? Just like the first two murders."

"Precisely. Thing is, his door was locked. So either he knew his killer well enough that he went to bed with them already in his place, or the killer had a Security pass and let themselves in."

"How many people have those passes?"  
"Only you and I have universal access. Ivanova, Franklin, Lou Welsh and Jack have ones that will get them into everyplace but the Restricted Zones like the reactor and power grid control room."

"So we're all suspects," Sinclair concluded quietly.

"Now, that's not to say that someone in Down Below hasn't created a forged pass to get them into some of the apartments. It's happened before and we've confiscated some in the past, but who has one now is unknown. We first have to clear and confirm every one of the Command staff's alibis. Where were you last night, Commander?"  
"Catherine and I went for a late dinner at twenty-one hundred at the Blue Marble. Ms. Cramer of ISN tried to get an interview with me there, and then we went inside and ate. Afterwards, we came home and went to bed by twenty-three hundred at the latest."  
"So from twenty-three hundred until you came on duty in C and C this morning, you have no eyewitnesses to support your statement?"  
"Catherine was there too; she'll tell you that."

"You know that's a weak alibi; she'd have reason to lie to protect you. And some might suggest you had an animus against Aziz."

"You don't actually think I ..."

"Of course not, but I have to be thorough."

"If this is linked to the first two mutilation killings we need to seriously rethink our assumption that it was someone who hated the Minbari, since Aziz is Human and represented the anti-alien cause."

"Or maybe Aziz's killer cut him up to make us think his death is connected to the other two and throw us off track."

"Then there are two or three killers on this Station. This is a nightmare."  
"I hardly know what to investigate first."  
"Commander," called out the Russian officer from the pit, "there's a Gold Channel transmission for you from Senator Hidoshi."

"I'm outta here," Garibaldi said, and Sinclair exhaled hard.

"I'll take it here," he said reluctantly. "Senator?"  
"What is going on out there, Commander? First a disease requiring quarantine and now this? Have you seen the story on ISN this morning? What are you thinking, trying to shut down a political rally? Do you know how that looks?"  
"I assure you, Senator, that's not what happened. The permit was issued by me weeks ago, over my Security Chief's objections. I simply spoke with two of the organizers about it to hear what they had planned ..."  
"That's not what this Ali Aziz is saying! He says you belittled him and his service during the War, using your status as a survivor of The Line to mock him."  
"What? I did no such thing, Senator! He asked me if I had served and I told him I did. Then he asked … "

"These are sensitive times, Sinclair, and we cannot have you appearing to denigrate other veterans!"

"Senator ..."  
"You're making things very difficult for the President; his re-election was hotly contested and highly unpopular in some quarters. A lot of that negative attention is now focused on Babylon 5. You must step very lightly, Sinclair, and for God sakes, when someone asks you a question on camera, just answer it! The average citizen doesn't care if you're on a date or not, they want to hear your response." Sinclair gritted his teeth.

"Yes, Senator." Hidoshi's attention was suddenly drawn to something off-camera. "What's this? ISN is now reporting that Aziz has been murdered?"  
"Yes, we've only just discovered the body ..."  
"Your security team better find the assassin quickly, Commander; this is just more of the kind of attention we do not need!" The screen went blank and Sinclair turned from it stiffly, seething with ire. Just as he began to wonder how the day could get any worse, the ISN reporter burst into C and C. Sinclair turned away and looked up at the ceiling while sighing heavily. Ivanova tried to stop her at the door.

"This is a restricted area, Ms. Crammer; civilians are not allowed on the Command deck."

"You're standing in the way of the people's right to information."

"And you're standing between me and the fusion reactor." Sinclair put on his best fake smile and turned around.

"It's alright, Lt. Commander; let her in. Ms. Crammer, what can I do for you?"  
"Commander Sinclair," she played to the camera, "Mary Ann Crammer here for Interstellar News. Do you have any comment on the assassination this morning of Ali Aziz, a businessman and political leader here aboard Babylon 5?"  
"Yes. We are very concerned about his violent death and my Security department is actively working the case right now. We hope to swiftly apprehend his killer."  
"Mr. Aziz was politically opposed to your governance aboard Babylon 5. How do you personally feel knowing he is no longer around to challenge you?"

"I am deeply distressed by his passing and wish to send condolences to his family."

"In a recent interview, Mr. Aziz accused you of lecturing him on your status as a survivor of The Line as a way to dismiss his views. Would you care to comment on this?" Sinclair shifted his jaw while trying to come up with a safe reply.

"I honor the late Mr. Aziz' service as an Earth Force Marine in the 47th Battalion during the War. His efforts to defend Earth are to be admired and remembered."  
"That doesn't answer my question, Commander."  
"I am sorry if Mr. Aziz drew any conclusions about our respective service, but I myself certainly did not and do not consider any veteran's story to be more valued over another's. I ..." Abruptly, there he was, drugged and strapped to a gurney, being taken away from his Starfury into a dark room where a single, triangular rack hung from the ceiling. Rough hands tore off his flight suit and then lifted him up and began to bind him to the bar with spiked iron bands.

"I'm sure the viewers will find your silence on this question telling. Thank you, Commander for your time. This has been Mary Ann Crammer reporting for ISN." Sinclair blinked and wondered what had just happened as the reporter left C and C. His heart rate was up and he was suddenly sweating inside his uniform.

"Damn that woman's twisted questioning," Ivanova expounded. "You should have let me throw her off the bridge, Commander. Commander?"  
"Better she bothers me here," he said, recovering, "than in my spare time. Besides, I have my orders, Lt. Commander." Ivanova looked at him sympathetically.

"Has Mr. Garibaldi had any breaks in the mass killing case?"  
"No, not yet. Everything seems to come to a dead end when we follow trails far enough. In fact, I still have a lot of data I'm trying to work through for the case. I'm going to go do that in my office; you can hold down the fort here."  
"Yes sir."

XXX

"What do you have for me, Commander?"  
"I've finished compiling that list from the customs records. One hundred and seventy six people came aboard the Station and have remained throughout the timeline that includes all the murders. She's come and gone a few times, but obviously Catherine is one of them. Cherry's another. I'm unfamiliar with any of the other people."

"Nice work, Commander. I thought that was going to take much longer to go through; you must have been working on this all day yesterday and today."  
"It was a good diversion after being caught off guard first thing in the morning by that reporter. It's been eye-opening, Mike; it really tells you something about the animus held against the Minbari that the murders of ten of them hasn't been reported on, but one Human is killed and suddenly ISN is on the scene. I didn't realize the hate still runs so deep."

"Well you gotta assume that most of the people living here are more or less comfortable with living with aliens; we're kind of in a bubble here. That's not necessarily true on Earth or Mars." Sinclair nodded thoughtfully.

"I suppose so. What's the story on Aziz?"  
"He died sometime between three and four this morning. Wounds are consistent with the original two deaths."  
"Anything at all in common between him, Dreval and Foroon?"  
"I'd be surprised if there were; we've read through some of his diary looking for clues and he really hated the Minbari; all of them."

"How about on the other case?"  
"We've unearthed some health code violations, but nothing that seems poisonous yet. My advice is don't eat at the Skyliner Diner, unless you'd like to meet a Narn tapeworm up close and personal. I hate to say it, but those cases are stone cold; without even knowing how they were killed … It's frustrating as hell. We'll start interviewing the people on your list tomorrow."

"Good. Good."  
"You gonna call it a day? I thought maybe the four of us could get together tonight."  
"Sorry; I still have to work on the duty roster for the next two weeks."

"Wanna make it drinks later instead of dinner? Say at twenty-one hundred?"  
"I'll have to check with Catherine, but yeah, that sounds doable."

"Earhart's good?"  
"Sure. Say, Mike, if you'd rather, we could go for coffee."  
"Nah. Just 'cause I don't drink anymore doesn't mean I mind the atmosphere there. Remember though; you talk work, you're picking up the tab. Club rules."

"I'm well aware of that," Sinclair half-smiled. "See you there."

XXX

"... so then Bill and Hothead scaled all four floors and came in through the window."

"You did what?" Sakai demanded of Sinclair. He chuckled.

"It was like rock climbing," he offered. Sakai gave him a look. "What can I say? We did a lot of stupid things, Bill and I."

"I did something like that once," Garibaldi said. "Slipped and broke my arm."

"But enough about Bill and I; how's it going with you two?" Senai and Garibaldi looked at each other.

"Good, I think?" he offered, watching her.

"It's scary, but good."

"I'd be scared if I were dating Garibaldi too," Sinclair razzed.

"We'd all be scared if you two were dating," Sakai assured him.

"You mean he didn't tell you about that yet?" joked Garibaldi.

"You were supposed to keep that on the down low," Sinclair rejoined, punching him on the arm. They all laughed.

"So anyway, are you having fun?" Sakai asked Senai and Garibaldi.  
"Oh definitely," she said, squeezing Garibaldi's hand.

"She got me to try … woah, you're on the news," Garibaldi said to Sinclair, pointing to the screen over the bar.

"This can't be good," Sinclair predicted.

"Turn it up!" Garibaldi yelled at the bartender. The camera pulled into a close up on Mary Ann Cramer.

"Commander Sinclair, isn't it true you believe your opinions matter more because you survived The Line?" The view switched to a silent Sinclair.

"She never asked me that question," he growled. "That didn't happen."  
"I'm sure the viewers will find your silence on this question telling."

"Turn it off!" Garibaldi counter-manned. "How do they call that reporting?" he grumbled.

"Sorry, Jeff. I wouldn't have turned up the sound if I'd known she was going to do a hatchet job on you."  
"That's gonna be another call from Hidoshi tomorrow."

"She has some nerve attacking you like that!" Senai complained loudly and angrily. "I'd like to know where the hell she was while the twelve of you were facing down the Minbari. Probably cowering in a hole somewhere. Someone oughta take her out like they did that Aziz character!" Three heads swiveled in her direction.

"Cherry!" Garibaldi exclaimed.

"Don't even joke like that," Sinclair whispered. "There's been far too much death on this Station."

"You don't mean that," Sakai remarked. Senai backpedaled.

"Sorry, you're right. It just infuriates me to hear someone attacking Jeff."  
"It's alright," Sinclair said philosophically, "It comes with the job."

"That's just not fair," Senai complained.

"Nothing is," Sinclair replied, emptying his glass. The four sat morosely for a while.

"I guess we should call it a night," Sakai offered. Reluctantly, Garibaldi bobbed his head.

"This one's on me," he said, pulling out his credit card.

"We'll split it; you didn't drink anything, you shouldn't pay the bill," Sakai said

"Nope, too late, I called it, it's on me. I'll see you tomorrow, Jeff. Goodnight, Catherine."

"Goodnight."

XXX

"... and didn't I tell you to answer those questions, Commander? Don't just stand there staring blankly into space! So I want you to make an appearance at that rally, Commander, to demonstrate that you're not above those other vets."  
"Senator, it's not a simple memorial they're planning. It's an anti-alien demonstration."

"You don't know that for sure, Sinclair; it's a commemoration of the end of the Earth-Minbari War, organized by veterans. I want you to attend."  
"I can't do that, Senator, it goes against my conscience. Besides, baring any major incidents, I'll be in Church that day."  
"Since when are you a religious man, Commander? You've never mentioned that before."  
"It never came up in conversation, Senator. But if you check my personnel files you'll see I was educated by the Jesuits."

"It's important you make it clear you support free speech on Babylon 5 and that you aren't disdainful of others."  
"Attending that demonstration will offend the entire alien population aboard this Station, particularly the Minbari."  
"The Minbari's opinion is not of importance now, Commander. You've made negotiations on Earth very difficult with your recent statements."  
"I find it difficult to believe anything I am alleged to have said is that powerful, Senator. If there is a conflict on Earth it has nothing to do with me."

"Commander!" Sinclair stared back, unblinking.

"Senator, I don't want to resign over this, but I cannot attend that rally. I will be attending Catholic services."  
"Commander, I ask you to seriously reconsider your plans. That will be all." The screen blinked off and Sinclair turned away from it with intense frustration.

"I can't believe they would ask you to do that," Sakai said, coming out of the kitchen with a mug of synthetic coffee. "Good for you for standing your ground."  
"Good for me, bad for my career," he said, taking his jacket down from where it hung off his standing mirror and pulling it on. "I just hope this isn't how I end up leaving Babylon 5." Sakai went to him and gave him a hug.

"Maybe this will turn out to be the day your luck turns." He bent over and gave her a quick kiss.

"That seems highly unlikely. See you tonight." 

XXX

After a quick breakfast in the mess hall, Sinclair went up to the Observation Dome and turned off his link. Never had the prospect of ten minutes of uninterrupted silence felt so good to him. He looked out the window and tried to empty his mind of all thoughts, but it wasn't something that was coming easily to him that morning. He felt like life aboard Babylon 5 was spinning out of control; knifings, poisonings, pro-Earth demonstrations, the press twisting his words around. Where were the days when his problems were as straightforward as dealing with a labor strike? About the only positive thing he could come up with was that Cherry and Garibaldi seemed to be having a good time together. Maybe there was some healing for her yet; maybe the War didn't mar everyone it touched.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Garibaldi said as he entered an otherwise empty C and C. "But there's a problem." Sinclair braced himself. "Delenn has just started going around visiting Minbari in their quarters and found another one dead. It appears he had just started in on his breakfast. Dr. Franklin is going to analyze all the food, but it was something Cherry made at Sector 47, so our food poisoning theory may belong in the trash heap of false conclusions too."

"What else is getting in to the people in quarantine?" Sinclair questioned.

"This guy had a copy of Universe Today brought to him with his food. We seized that as evidence too. But maybe someone is pumping some kind of gaseous poison under the doors? Shooting them with something when they answer the door? I dunno. Meanwhile, Delenn wants to speak to you."  
"I'll bet she does. Earth wants me to go to that rally. I got out of it only by saying I was going to be exercising my right to religious practice, which is true, but still ..."  
"Don't they realize how badly that would compromise our neutrality?"  
"They're more concerned with silencing the opposition's propaganda campaign back home. So much is changing on Earth, Mike; I guess it was inevitable it would start to impact us here."  
"Sorry, Jeff. I'll let you know if Franklin finds anything, but ..."

"The odds of that are very long." Sinclair turned his link back on. "I guess I'd better set up an appointment with Delenn."

XXX

"Again, thank you for your patience with the investigation. Hopefully we'll get the clues we need today." Sinclair said as he and Delenn approached the restaurant. "A very dear friend of mine works here in the kitchen, but it'll be my first time eating here."  
"They do some very interesting things with traditional dishes," she said approvingly. They sat down at a table and Senai came out from behind the counter.

"Hothead! Great to see you here!"

"Hothead?" Delenn mouthed.

"Cherry, this is Ambassador Delenn, Ambassador, this is my friend Cheren Senai."  
"Pleased to meet you," Delenn said and Senai nodded back.

"Here's the menu; I'll come back in a few minutes to take your order."  
"What do you recommend, Ambassador?"  
"Tulba pod salad is the traditional mid-day meal for the Religious Caste, but I have never tried it spherified in a beeba oil emulsion. The Worker's Caste typically eats premur bread at this time."

"Where is that … oh, I see it, with glomo fruit foam. That sounds good. Shall we order? Cherry? I think we're ready. I'll have the number five and the Ambassador?"  
"The number one, please."  
"Do you want anything to drink with that?"  
"Tim'fa juice," Delenn ordered.

"Make that two. Thanks, Cherry."

"I'll be back with your food soon."

XXX

"Give me something, Stephen, give me something," Garibaldi begged as Franklin studied the results of his earlier tests on the latest victim's breakfast.

"Everything here is something I've seen before in other Minbari meals. Sli'van, sienn, beets, almaron powder, flarn, tofu, maltodextrin, methylcellulose, sodium alginate. Hold on, this is odd. This third sample, of tim'fa juice. It also contains transglutaminase. Last time I looked that up, it was said to be a yogurt thickener, but there's no dairy in with the juice."

"Is it used for anything else?"  
"Let me check the database. 'Transglutaminase, while occasionally used as a thickening agent, is most frequently used as a meat glue to join together smaller pieces of meat ...'"  
"Meat? Sector 47 is a vegetarian restaurant."  
"...catalyzes the formation of an isopeptide bond between a free amine group and the acyl group at the end of the side chain of protein- or petptide-bound glutaminase. Bonds formed by transglutaminase exhibit high resistance to proteolytic degradation. My God, Garibaldi! Do you know what that means?"

"Hell no."  
"In meat, it bonds glutaminase and lysine together on a molecular level. That's what we are, Garibaldi, meat! This is what we've been looking for!"  
"Then why didn't we detect this before?"  
"I'm reading ..." he said, holding up a finger. "Apparently, once mixed into a liquid, the enzymatic effect lasts from ten minutes to two hours tops. Then the reaction is over and all that's left behind is a protein. They must have drank this in a liquid, the catalytic reaction began in the tissues of their throats, then by the time I performed an autopsy, it was gone, just an innocuous protein left. If inhaled as a powder, it would block up the lungs." Suddenly, Garibaldi felt his stomach turn. "It's the perfect weapon, the perfect ..."

"It's Cherry! Cherry's the killer! I've been sleeping with the serial killer, Stephen! Jeff's sister-friend. My God … I've got to go warn him … Garibaldi to Sinclair!"

"Sinclair."  
"Jeff, where are you?"  
"Sitting in Sector 47 with Ambassador Delenn waiting for our lunches."  
"Don't eat anything! Whatever you do, don't let her eat or drink anything!"  
"What?"

"Don't eat anything! I'll explain when I get there!" Garibaldi ran out of Med lab at top speed.

XXX

"What is the problem, Commander?" Delenn asked frowning slightly.

"I'm not sure … but Mr. Garibaldi was certainly emphatic about ..."  
"Here you go," Senai announced brightly as she approached with a tray full of food that she began to distribute. "Ambassador, I have for you tulba pod spheres in beebo oil emulsion and a glass of freshly squeezed tim'fa juice, and for you, Commander, a premur bread sandwich with glomo foam. Oh! I forgot your drink, Jeff; give me just one minute." Sinclair looked at their plates.

"We need to stall until Garibaldi gets here," he whispered to Delenn with a confused look back at his friend in the kitchen.

"That will not be a problem," she assured him calmly.

"Sorry about that Hot … Commander. Here's your drink." She stood expectantly by the table. "Tell me what you think," she requested innocently.

"You will have to excuse us; we must pray before we eat," Delenn said mildly. Sinclair flicked his eyes up at Delenn's and shared an understanding.

"It could be another fifteen, twenty minutes before we start, Cherry. We'll call you back. Could you bring us a candle?"  
"Sure. Excuse me for a second. Here you go," Cherry said, "we keep them on hand for our more observant guests"

"Thank you," Delenn said, drawing a lighter from her robes. She lit the candle, Sinclair bowed his head, and she began to chant. Senai returned to the kitchen. Five minutes into the ritual, Garibaldi burst in.

"You didn't eat or drink anything, did you?" he demanded, concerned. Sinclair and Delenn raised their heads and looked at him.

"No. What's going on, Michael?"  
"Cherry!" he shouted loudly toward the kitchen. "Cherry, get out here!"  
"Michael! I didn't know you were coming by too," she smiled as she approached. Her expression changed as soon as she saw his. Garibaldi reached down with both hands and with a big, dramatic gesture, swapped Sinclair's drink with Delenn's.

"Go ahead, Jeff," he said, staring coldly at Senai. "Have a drink." Sinclair frowned and looked from one friend to the other.

"What?" Sinclair asked, puzzled.  
"Go on. He's going to drink that juice, Cherry. Bill's best friend, his brother." Sinclair slowly put his hand around the glass and lifted it up. "You gonna let him do it?" Sinclair brought it to his lips.  
"No, Jeff, no!" Senai cried, grabbing his hand. "Don't drink that!"

"Cherry?" Sinclair asked. He spun around in his chair to look at Garibaldi. "What's going on here, Michael?"  
"She's our serial killer, Jeff. Cherry's the killer."

"What? No, that can't be ..." Sinclair exclaimed, his eyes wide like planets.

"Go on, Cherry, tell him. You owe it to him. Tell him."

"Cherry?" Sinclair whispered.

"I did it for you, Jeff; you suffered so much! It was't right, what they made you suffer!" she said with a gesture at Delenn. "You used to be so relaxed and happy-go-lucky. I did it for you, for Bill, for Devorah Eisenstadt, for Quinton Orozco, for Jake Owasaka, for Alo Makiya. I did it for Georges Lacondeguy, for John Cushenberry, Ian McClaws, Sam Haynes, for Eric McKeegan and Yukiko Nakashima. I did it for all of you, for the Death's Hand Squadron, the 361st. For what the Minbari did to you, there must be proportionate vengeance! There can be no forgetting, no forgiveness. Just justice! I did it for justice!" Sinclair knocked his chair over and advanced on her, angrier than he'd ever been in his life, angrier than he'd been that moment on The Line when he became a kamikaze. He was shaking from head to toe with fury as Cheren Senai, all six feet of her, cowered at his response.

"Cherry ..." he growled, low and throaty. "How could you? Here on my Station? Twelve lives … you betrayed me ... you betrayed me! You've broken my heart. You're nothing to me now … not a sister, not a friend ... nothing!"  
"Jeff!" She reached over to touch his arm and he looked so close to breaking her wrist that Garibaldi grabbed him by the shoulders and held him back.

"It's not worth it, Jeff, she's not worth it."  
"No ..." he whispered in agreement, his jaw askew and his eyes pitch black beneath his brows.

"Don't you understand? I did it for you, Jeff. Jeff!" she implored, taking a step forward. Garibaldi drew his PPG and put it to her head.

"Go ahead; give me a reason," he warned her. "Security," he barked into his link, "I need a team to the Zocalo, Sector 47, stat!" Sinclair still looked like a bomb about to explode. Delenn rose slowly to her feet and completed the gesture Senai did not, touching him gently on the bicep.

"Commander," she said softly. Like he was breaking free from a wizard's spell, he turned toward her in slow motion. "It's alright, Commander. It's over. It's alright."

"Lock her up," he rasped to Garibaldi, turning his head to glare balefully at the woman whose friendship he'd once so valued. He gave one last, quick glance at Delenn and strode from the room. Delenn touched her link.

"Delenn to Catherine Sakai. We need to speak ..."

XXX

She found him on the bench in the stone garden, his jacket wide open, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, his eyes fixed on the floor between his feet. His right hand was bleeding from the knuckles; he'd hit something. Hard.

"Jeff?" Sakai said softly, sitting down beside him. "Jeff, Delenn told me what happened. You couldn't have known, Jeff. There's no way any of us could have known." There was a long silence between them.

"I loved her, Catherine," he sobbed, and it was then that she saw the tears running down his cheeks. In fifteen years, she'd never seen him cry before. "She was a sister … I would have taken a plasma bolt for her … a sister … a monster." Sakai put her arm across his broad back.

"I know. I'm sorry. She had the perfect plan, the perfect weapon. She must have been planning it from the moment she came aboard. She fooled all of us. And she used both of you; you, Michael. But you couldn't have known."  
"She said she did it for me ..."

"She's crazy. Bill's death drove her crazy."  
"No. She knew what she was doing."

"She's insane."

"No." Sakai leaned her head against his shoulder and he was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was strangled and low. "She killed once for Bill, but twice for me. The first Minbari and Aziz. How could she have thought I'd want her to do that? How?"  
"I don't know, but it's not your fault."  
"Rather than know, I wish I'd drank that juice."

"Don't say that!"

"You know, for years I would have helped her do it? I would have been glad to help, to get revenge."  
"You think that now, but it didn't happen despite you having plenty of opportunities in the last ten years. You never did it because you never would do it. Your conscience wouldn't let you; that's not who you are. That's not the man who survived The Line. It's not you." She withdrew her arm from around him. "I can tell you want to be left alone. But when you're ready to come back home, I'll be waiting." Sinclair nodded faintly. Sakai stood up, looked at him again and bent over to plant a kiss on the top of his head. Sinclair didn't move.

Ten minutes passed before Garibaldi arrived, sat down beside Sinclair, and mimicked his posture.

"I thought I'd find you here."

"Hmm," Sinclair grunted.

"She gave a recorded confession admitting to everything. The three mutilation killings and how they were supposedly for you and Bill. Planting the transglutaminase in cold drinks and sauces, using me to follow the investigation and find out what we knew. She had it all worked out ages ago; she spent years studying Minbari cooking back on Earth to prepare. She's been using the knife in that kitchen all along in plain sight. Twelve deaths; two for you and one for ten of eleven of the people in your Squadron. Delenn would have been for the last." He shook his head in disbelief. "She's upset that you're angry with her, but otherwise she's unrepentant. She had no apology for using me. The other night after we had sex, I went into the bathroom. That's when she took my Security pass so she could let herself into Aziz's room. Then she put it back in my office, expecting I'd just think I'd forgotten it there. She didn't let me stay the night so she could leave later and kill him; made out like she wasn't comfortable with the relationship becoming that intimate. It was almost the perfect crime. If Delenn had found the last victim just a half hour later, the transglutaminase would have dissipated and been undetectable." He was quiet for a while. "It happened to me again, Jeff, another relationship that ended in disaster." Sinclair lifted his head to look at Garibaldi and uttered his first words.

"But this time, you're not going to turn to alcohol," he stated, half-compliment, half-order.

"Yeah. But I should have seen this one coming. She was only dating me because I'm friends with you. It was you she wanted all along. We joked about it, but the truth is, it was no joke. She's in love with you. Always has been. Who knows, Catherine might have been next." He tried, but failed, to catch Sinclair's eyes. "You wanna see her? If they convict her, she'll almost certainly get death of personality." Sinclair nodded at that fact.

"No," he whispered. "She's already dead to me. I never want to see her again." Garibaldi clasped Sinclair's shoulder in his hand.

"It'll be okay. You'll be okay."  
"No." Garibaldi was silent as the minutes passed. Finally he put his hands on his thighs and stood up.

"I'll be around if you want to talk." Sinclair bobbed his head. Garibaldi looked at him for a while and then shoved his hands in his pockets and left the garden.

XXX

"Your link's been off for hours," Sakai said with concern when Sinclair finally entered his quarters. "No one knew where you were; what were you doing?"  
"Walking the length of the Station and back. Always wanted to do that," he said in a monotone, then sunk down on the couch. Sakai went to the kitchen and poured him a glass of bourbon and herself a glass of wine, then sat down beside him. Sinclair wordlessly took it from her and drained the glass in one go. "I guess I need to tell Londo and G'Kar what happened so I can get that quarantine lifted," he reflected flatly.

"ISN finally did a story on the murders tonight, so they already know."

"Hmm."

"Is it okay if I sit here with you?" He glanced over and shook his head yes. She leaned against him him and reflexively, he put his arm around her.

"You want anything to eat?"  
"No."

"Do you want to make love?"

"No."

"I'm sorry, Jeff, I'm so, so sorry." Sinclair closed his eyes and she ran her fingers against the grain of the hair on the back of his head. "You must be tired. Why don't we go to bed?" He got up wordlessly and headed for the other room. They got undressed and each took a quick shower before climbing under the covers. Sakai put her head on his chest and draped one leg over him, holding onto him with her arm while Sinclair laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish I could forget," he whispered into the dark.

XXX

Life returned to normal for almost everyone on Babylon 5 with the swift lifting of the quarantine of the Minbari and the return of a feeling of safety since the killer of so many innocents had been caught. To reinforce that security, transglutaminase was put on the list of banned imports to Babylon 5 and chefs learned to do without. But for Sinclair, Sakai and Garibaldi, normalcy seemed a long way away. Sinclair became for a time even more remote and businesslike and it was two months before he and Garibaldi could bear to be alone together long enough to finish watching the historic vid "The Godfather, Part II." Sakai got used to Sinclair disappearing at night to the stone garden and she heard rumors she couldn't confirm about him crawling into some dark space in Down Below with a group of mute beggars she was never really sure existed. She was the only one of the three to follow the trial and subsequent punishment of Cheren Senai, who was reprogrammed and sent to work in a kitchen on Europa since the Minbari wouldn't permit a Human to live permanently on their world, even in penance. Garibaldi was less talkative too, though of course for Garibaldi, that still meant a lot of talking was going on. But he was slow to return to the jokester he'd been before, and vocally denounced any suggestion of romance for a long, long time. For Dr. Stephen Franklin, it was an exciting time, with the peer-reviewed publication of his paper on the use of transglutaminase as a biological weapon in the Pangalatic Journal of Medicine.

The tenth anniversary of the Battle of The Line arrived amidst much media fanfare, with ISN devoting twelve hours of coverage to the topic: "where were you when you heard the Minbari had surrendered?" and broadcasting a scrolling list of the approximately one-hundred-and-ninety-nine-thousand, eight hundred women and men who had died in combat during the battle. The demonstration on Babylon 5 drew a thousand Humans, who, while a mere fraction of the population on board was the largest rally the Station had ever seen. Security was able to quell the concurrent rioting with the arrests of fifty of the most overwrought participants to whom Sinclair later granted amnesty. The many Human religious organizations on B5 jockeyed for space in the available chapel spaces for memorial services that drew many thousands more than the rally. The Catholic chapel, which rented a small, permanent space, was where Sinclair spent most of the day, at least when he wasn't flashing back to 2248, which was where he found himself a lot of the time.

" … Boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of Hell ..."  
"Fade," Sinclair said as he heard Bill Mitchell at the door. He took his feet off the desk and turned to see his friend enter.

"Hothead, I'm in love!" Mitchell exclaimed. Sinclair laughed a deep and hearty guffaw.

"You say that every time you have sex with a woman for the first time," he mocked. "You get some action with Cherry? On the first date?"  
"No, this wasn't like that at all. I'm in love with her! We talked all night and connected on every level. We talked about our backgrounds, our interests, then about philosophy and history and politics; it was like talking with you if you were a foxy Ethiopian woman!" Mitchell sat down on the lower bed of their bunk and Sinclair turned around and straddled the desk chair.

"There's an image."

"I'm telling you, Hothead, this is it! She's the one!"

"I'll believe that when I'm standing next to you in my dress blues with a minister in front of us."

"Start working on your toast now, brother; I'm telling you, this is the real deal! I'm in love." Sinclair stretched and yawned. "Really, I swear."  
"Okay, sure," Sinclair said skeptically. "Whatever you say, Blue Eyes."

"How come you're not with Catherine?" Mitchell asked suddenly.

"I gave her up for Lent," Sinclair pronounced seriously.

"You what? No way! That's hardcore!" Sinclair laughed again and lobbed a toy Starfury at Mitchell's head.

"She's studying for some exam. We both know if I were there, she'd be studying anatomy, so I'm here, hanging out and reading."

"Tennyson I assume? So what is this; the first night in two weeks your dick's been in your pants?"  
"No, last Tuesday we both got too drunk. But that's not all we do, you know."

"Sure," Mitchell mocked back, "whatever you say, Hothead. You're just lucky that fornication hasn't been a sin since 2104, or you'd be going straight to hell."

"You and me both, brother. So I've been thinking, who should I put to sleep tomorrow at breakfast?"  
"Have you done it to Quinton yet?"  
"Twice."  
"Okay, how about Ian? He's out with Eric; they'll probably be up all night and exhausted in the morning."

"Ian it is. So you and bartender Cherry, huh?"  
"Yeah. At first she seemed really disappointed I wasn't you, but then like I said, it was fantastic. I'm gonna marry her; you wait and see."

Sinclair blinked his way back to 2258 and the chapel on Babylon 5. He looked down at the eleven votives he'd lit and prayed over before disappearing into the past. He hesitated for a moment and then pulled down another unlit glass jar. He set the candle inside ablaze with a long, old-fashioned match and started to pray for Cherry:

"Lord Jesus Christ, most merciful Saviour of the world, we humbly beseech You, by Your most Sacred Heart, that all the sheep who stray out of Your fold may in one days be converted to You ..."

68


End file.
